#this blog is gonna see a massive decrease in activity

“Ehhh.” It’s vaguely questioning, she rationalizes, if a little muffled. She hasn’t quite found the motivation to lift her face from her sleepy haze just yet.

“Can I… can I sleep in here?”

“Why do y’ wanna sleep in ‘ere..?”

Lune fidgets, plays with the edges of his sleeves. “...be… because there’s a ghost in my room.”

Oh. It takes at least a solid minute for that childish (albeit straightforward, she’ll give him that) reasoning to sink in, but once it does, Natoru realizes she’s not getting off the hook that easily. Finally resigning herself to being awake and active again, she hauls herself up from her face-down, torpid position and searches for Lune in the darkness, rubbing at her eyes sleepily.

“Should I go throw him out?”

It takes Lune some time to answer, and when he does, he stares down at his feet as he speaks. “...N-No. I’d rather just stay in here.”

“Eh? How come?”

“...b-because… um. What if… what if the ghosts here are stronger than the ones at home?”

“There are no ghosts stronger than me,” Natoru brags. What a more sweet-natured, maternal cat might have claimed only in the interest of reassuring Lune, she seems to wholly believe, and not for the first time it becomes obvious just why the kitten has taken such a shine to her.

“Really..? How do you know?”

Natoru doesn’t falter, patting her chest with one paw and planting the other on her hip.

"Because I'm the strongest," she answers matter-of-factly.

Lune, still standing at the edge of the bed she'd chosen (though now noticeably with a straighter posture than before), seems to spend some time thinking that over. Finally, hesitantly, he says, “But this isn’t home. What if the ghosts here are stronger than the ones you know? What if the dark makes them stronger?”

Natoru pauses thoughtfully, but ultimately shakes her head. “Nah. I’ve been all over, Lune. And I was born in the human world-- it gets dark there, too. Still no match for me~” She gives him a sunny smile, patently cute as it always is because of her soft, chubby face, but the undercurrent of chaos can not be denied.

What had been a gradual and noticeable decrease in his fear appears to reach a plateau; Lune is convinced, his tail and ears perking back up.

“I’m so grateful! You’re super cool, Natoru!”

“Yep,” Natoru agrees as she hops off her bed to join him on their trek back to his room.

                                                         &&&

Lune begins to trail behind her the closer to his guest room they approach, but she neglects to comment on it. Instead, she tosses the beaded curtain in the doorway aside like a particularly bothersome obstacle, and strolls inside. In stark contrast, Lune tiptoes in behind her, looking furtively from one corner of the room to the next as if he expects to be ambushed. (Well, perhaps he does.)

“Okay, Ghost, you had your fun!” Natoru starts as boldly as she can, paws on her hips. “How’s that one song go? You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here! It’s bedtime for Lune.” Then, a little quieter but just as determined, and in a smug tone that shows she absolutely relishes saying it, “And if you don’t listen, then I’m gonna kick you in the head.”

To Lune, she adds, “That’s another great song. Recommend it.”

“It’s about kicking monsters in the head..?”

“Yeah,” Natoru says with a cheerful, heedless shrug.

The two of them are met with a stifling silence afterwards, as Natoru expected, but still she waits for Lune to give his approval. Creeping out from behind her, he pads softly further into the room, one, two steps at a time, again scrutinizing the corners. In the end, he doesn’t turn directly to face her, most likely mindful of the darkened void beneath the bed behind him, but he does look back to her.

“...will you check the bed and closet too..?”

“Of course.”

                                                         &&&

It’s after he’s tucked back into his own bed that Lune asks, “It gets dark in the human world?”

“Every night.”

“How long does a night last?”

Natoru pauses there. 

“...I don’t remember.” She does remember it feeling quite long sometimes, though. It doesn’t seem pertinent to tell Lune. “Time feels different in the human world.”

“How so?”

Again, she pauses, this time in thought more so than in uncharacteristic caution.

The truth is, she thinks, maybe it’s not that time feels different in the human world, but simply that she had once been different. A long time ago, before she came to the Cat Kingdom. Those memories are odd— they don’t fit like they should. She thinks sometimes it may be akin to trying to play one of Natori’s beloved records in a CD player. 

“It’s different because you can tell time has passed just by looking around at the sky and the ground, but it doesn’t actually feel like time has passed. It’s disorienting.”

“The ground changes, too?”

“Yeah!” She chirps. “Sometimes it snows, or it rains. Then you get mud. That stuff’s tons of fun.”

“I’ve seen pictures of it,” Lune starts thoughtfully. “It looks messy.”

“Mm. Natori would have a fit if you discovered how fun it is, too.”

“Maybe I’ll get to play with it, too, then. Someday.”

“Probably! You’ll have your own adventures in the human world, eventually.”

“I hope so,” Lune starts. “It sounds like such a funny place.”

Whatever Natoru might have planned to say to that, no doubt to agree, to tell him of the other oddities abound in the human world, it’s lost in obscurity, as, of all cats, Natori seems to see fit to enter at that time, peeking in through the beaded doorway with a look of subdued disapproval. In some distant part of her brain, the part that’s always faintly amused at her coworker’s finicky quirks, Natoru briefly entertains the idea that perhaps he’d been supernaturally summoned by the talk of mud.

“What on earth are the two of you doing awake at this hour..?”

Natoru answers easily enough, tone blithe as ever. “Don’t look at me, Lune’s the one who dragged me out of bed ‘cause of a ghost.”

Judging from Lune’s offended expression in return, he’s not at all appreciative of his idol throwing him under the bus. Natori, also, regards her with a disapproving frown, paws settling at his hips. To herself, Natoru thinks his current countenance lines up pretty solidly with that of the quintessential, matronly governess.

“Natoru, don’t go blaming your foible on the child.”

“But he did wake me up because of a ghost,” Natoru protests.

It’s at this exchange that Lune’s indignation seems to fade, so that he appears relatively chastened, shamed. “...I’m sorry, Natori, I did wake her up for that.”

Natori seems to… deflate, almost, padding to Lune’s bedside with a sigh. “It’s nothing that warrants an apology, my prince. You’re in no trouble.” Then, while busily straightening the crocheted blanket atop the comforter, “...another ghost, then..?”

Lune’s embarrassed silence says it all, he supposes. So it appears then that Natori decides to move past it without comment in response. A phase, he tells himself, brought about by recent stressors, and one that will fade as they do.

“Well. It is quite late, and there’s an early morning ahead of us all. We should all be more rested, you know. This isn’t the night for tall tales.”

“Hey, speaking of, how come you’re awake, Natori?” Natoru starts shrewdly.

An inquiry the grey cat was clearly not prepared for, as his first response to it is to open his mouth to voice his answer… only to close it again with a light snap once he realizes either he has no suitable excuse or that that suitable excuse is tremendously weak in theory.

“...It’s not important,” he eventually settles on, formal, demure. Leaving precious little room for followup clarifications, though he must know by now that such a thing will not stop Natoru.

“Natori, have you ever been to the human world?” Lune asks.

“Yes, occasionally,” Natori replies, head canted just slightly in curiosity at where Lune’s evident investigation is going.

“Do you have a favorite thing about it?”

“A favorite thing? Well, let me think…”

After a moment, all too aware of Lune’s expectant gaze on him and doing his best to ignore Natoru’s amused, knowing stare (yes, Natoru, he realizes he’s being massively hypocritical right now), Natori seems to decide on, “I suppose I’d say it’s probably the scenery— er, the variety in it, in particular.”

Lune nods excitedly. “The variety! That intrigues me so much, Natori. I’ve seen the pictures of the  forests and mountains and the oceans— they’re all so huge, Natori, aren’t they? I can’t imagine how big the human world must be to have multiple oceans in it..!”

“I do imagine it must be hard for you,” Natori agrees indulgently with a laugh. Then, a touch diffidently, “...having seen but a fraction of it myself, I must admit it’s rather difficult for me, as well, at times.” His attention wanders to Natoru, who is still lounging propped up on her paws on the end of Lune’s bed like a proper house cat. She wears a thoughtful, somewhat faraway expression, and he wonders what it is she’s thinking of. But, unobtrusive and respectful as ever, Natori doesn’t pry. Instead, he asks, “Did you shoo out the ghost, then?”

Natoru snaps out of her apparent reverie, nodding a time or two and waving her paw in disregard. “Oh, yeah, he’s toast.” And to Lune, “I scared him off, didn’t I?”

“Yup! You said you’d kick him in the head if he came back.”

Ah, that earns her another long-suffering look from Natori, though he doesn’t voice his disapproval this time. Natoru just gives him another of her patented sunny smiles.

“...Well,” Natori starts readily. “If that’s the case, I think that’s enough ill-timed chatter to last us the night. Morning will arrive before you know it, and I’ll not oblige any requests to sleep in.” Spoken while gently tugging the comforter up over Lune’s shoulders, now that the crocheted blanket has been righted.

“Can I ask one last question, Natori?”

“Yes,” Natori answers primly, somewhat absently, if his concentration on Lune’s already straightened bedcovers is anything to go by.

“It’s about the human world again.” And there Lune hesitates, at least until Natori gives another acknowledging noise. “I keep reading about... how big the human world is, and you and Natoru say it is, too. And— and all the stuff that’s in it, things you can’t see here. Do you think… I mean, because it’s so… There’s so much in it, so do you think… someone could go there, but eventually run out of things to see?”

His voice has lowered to be so soft his two companions nearly miss his question in its entirety, and it along with his insistence on keeping his gaze glued to some indeterminate spot to his side tells them both this line of questioning is not just a child’s rambling, all-encompassing curiosity. Because of this, it seems the two of them struggle for an answer for some time— one that must be reassuring and optimistic, but also can not conclusively discuss the issue. It hasn’t been named yet; it has yet to be spoken aloud to Lune, and it is not the place of the royal advisor nor their vaguely-defined assistant to do so.

Paws lingering over the plush comforter where he’s folded it over Lune’s shoulders, Natori finally replies, timidly, “...Anything is possible.” 

“Sure, there’s a lot to see. But nothing beats good old home,” is Natoru’s helpful addition. “A cat’s bound to get homesick at some point.”

Lune doesn’t respond for a few long minutes, but neither Natori nor Natoru move to prompt or hurry him, even when the silence begins to feel acutely oppressive, and Natoru almost wishes a real ghost would break the tension. Eventually, however, Lune gives a very small sigh, and his attention wanders from his earlier inconsequential spot to Natori’s face. It’s not quite his more usual bright and inquisitive demeanor, but it’s at least a step away from the nervous reserve he’d been exhibiting just moments before.

“...I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yes. It’s certainly a fascinating place, but it’s no Cat Kingdom. The comforts of familiarity compel all of us to look homeward at least occasionally.”

Lune seems to think that over for a moment, glancing down to the hem of the blanket covering him once (Natoru thinks he must be imagining his own bed back at home, and his colorful bedroom, eternally bathed in sunlight). This time, when he looks to the two of them, it’s with a decidedly more self-assured air. 

“Okay! So I’ll stay as familiar as I possibly can!”

Natoru laughs— she can’t help it. It’s such an endearingly straightforward conclusion to come to. Natori, however… she notices the way his expression tenses, the conflicted, nervous debate he must be waging on the inside. Lune has taken away the wrong message from all this, and it should be addressed and amended, but... it’s only getting later, and Natori had entered the conversation with a chiding lecture about the late hour. He looks tired, too, Natoru notes to herself, probably a crucial trigger for his indecisiveness.

“You got it, Lune,” she decides to chime in, pushing herself up onto her haunches now. “But I think it’s time to stick a fork in this one, because I’m ready to go back to dreamland.”

Lune’s eyes light up further. “Oh! Maybe I’ll dream of the human world.”

“Maybe!”

Natori seems to just accept this abrupt left turn in the conversation in his usual yielding way, but he does see fit to add, in a soft tone that comes perhaps dangerously close to pleading, “...Lune… it’s all well and good to desire to remain... recognizable, but…”

There he dithers for some time, at a loss for what he wants to say or how to say it, most likely, as he utters numerous false starts before finally appearing to give up. Instead, lips straightening to a thin line, he fixes the kitten with a sort of wistfully helpless smile, and gives a comically uncharacteristic shrug.

“...Well. It’s late, as we’ve all pointed out. Goodnight, my prince. Now that your room has been cleared of its phantoms, please don’t dawdle on your way back to the Land of Nod. The sun will rise before you know it.”

“I won’t, Natori.”

Natori inclines his head once in wordless approval as he turns to leave, gaze also lingering meaningfully on Natoru (one she again only returns a blithe smile to), before he leaves in much the same natural way he’d first arrived. Natoru takes the opportunity to hop off Lune’s bed and dust herself off, though even her own reasoning for doing so escapes her. Lune, meanwhile, appears somewhat thoughtful, if distantly uncertain.

“Is it really so close to morning? I’m sorry for waking you, a-and for keeping you up all this time.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you in on a secret, actually—” Here she glances behind her to confirm that Natori has, indeed, left, before continuing in a hushed but shrewdly amused manner, “I know Natori said he wouldn’t let us sleep in, but just keep in mind that what your dad says goes, and he hasn’t seen a morning in years.”