Zen woke to the rough and wet, sandpaper-like sensation of a tiny tongue scraping against his face. His eyes fluttered open, the broken morning sunlight filtering through the leaves above, casting a golden glow over the forest floor.
A cold breeze drifted past, making him shiver. Great. Another reminder that he no longer had a roof over his head.
"Alright, alright, I'm up," he groaned, gently prying the tiny creature off his face.
The kitten—his only companion now—tilted her head at him, her bright white eyes gleaming in the light.
Zen picked her up, holding her at arm's length. "So you're a girl, huh?" he mused. She let out a small, impatient meow in response.
A name… she needed a name.
"Muki," he decided after a moment, letting the name roll off his tongue. "Yeah, Muki suits you."
As if in approval, Muki let out a sweet, high-pitched meow.
"Great, now that we've got introductions out of the way," he said, placing her back down on the ground, "you wouldn't happen to know where the hell we're going, would you?"
Muki blinked up at him, then turned on her tiny paws and bolted forward.
Zen sighed. "I'll take that as a yes."
Keeping up with her wasn't exactly a challenge. Her little legs moved fast, but his were longer. The two of them weaved through dense trees, Muki pausing every so often, looking left and right as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe—before deciding, with full confidence, to turn left again.
"Yeah, sure, let's trust the directionally gifted cat," Zen muttered, trudging after her.
Soon, the trees thinned out, revealing something unexpected—a lake. It wasn't enormous, but big enough, the water reflecting the sky like a polished mirror.
Wildflowers bloomed along the edges, their colors bright against the greenery. The air smelled fresher here, untouched.
Zen exhaled slowly, feeling something shift inside him.
Just one day. That's all it had been. One night since everything shattered, he somehow managed to push the betrayal to the back of his mind. At least for now.
What was the point of holding on to it anyway? He wasn't going back. That much was clear.
This—whatever this was—was his reality now.
Zen stripped off his clothes and dove into the lake, the cold water shocking his skin before settling into a refreshing embrace. For a moment, everything—his past, his regrets, his future—dissolved into the ripples around him.
He stretched out his limbs, floating aimlessly, staring up at the sky. From the shore, Muki sat still, her tiny head tilted in what could only be feline judgment.
Zen smirked. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered, shutting his eyes. Then, softly, he began to hum, his voice carrying over the water.
Oh Sun Of Spring
What Days Do You Bring?
Will They Be Pretty?
Or They'll Be Petty?
How Will Be The Rain?
Will It Bring Pain?
Oh Guide Me This Time
And Forgive My Crime
Oh Sun Of Spring
What Days Do You Bring?
The words left his lips like a whispered prayer, one meant for no one in particular. He let himself sink for a moment before surfacing with a deep breath, pushing his hair back as he swam toward the shore.
Muki was still playing with insects, swatting at them as if she had nothing better to do. Zen, now dry, reached for the bread his mother had given him, spreading crushed berries over it.
The taste was bittersweet—just like the memory it carried. He took a slow bite, his throat tightening as he realized something.
This was the last time he'd eat something from home.
His fingers clenched around the bread, but he forced himself to swallow—both the food and the lump in his throat. When Muki meowed expectantly, he tore off a small piece and offered it to her. She sniffed it before gobbling it up without hesitation.
Zen wiped his mouth and exhaled. "Alright, Miss," he said, standing up. "Let's go."
Muki hopped onto his shoulder, her tiny claws gripping his tunic for balance as they made their way down the dirt path. Evening came, then night, and soon, one night turned into many.
Days passed as Zen and Muki wandered through the dense jungle, carving a path through the unknown. Each morning, the forest awakened with a symphony—birds calling from the treetops, unseen creatures rustling in the underbrush, and the distant roar of something far too big for Zen's liking.
Zen discovered trees unlike anything he had ever seen—some with bark that shimmered faintly in the dark, others that twisted unnaturally, their roots curled like grasping fingers.
He found flowers that bled crimson when plucked and mushrooms that pulsed with a faint glow, illuminating Muki's whiskers when she sniffed them curiously.
Some berries tasted like honey and some burned his tongue so badly he had to dunk his head in a nearby stream. Muki, of course, only watched with what could only be described as silent amusement.
The animals were no less strange. Some resembled the creatures he knew—deer with antlers that glowed like molten gold, foxes with split tails, and birds that mimicked his voice whenever he spoke.
Others were more unsettling—eyeless things that slithered through the trees, insects the size of his hand that clicked their mandibles in warning, and once, in the dead of night, Zen swore he saw a shadow move against the moon despite nothing standing in its way.
At night, they slept beneath the open sky, curled up near a fire Zen struggled to keep alive. The stars above were unfamiliar, scattered in patterns he didn't recognize.
Sometimes, he would talk to Muki, not expecting an answer, just needing to hear something other than the wind. She would stare at him with those pale eyes, listening as if she understood.
"This world is bigger than I thought," Zen murmured one night, staring into the flickering flames. "Bigger… and weirder."
Muki curled up beside him, and let out a soft meow of agreement.
The Core was shrinking, but Zen barely paid it any mind. His days blurred together—trekking through dense undergrowth, wading through rivers, and waking up to Muki's tiny paws kneading his chest.
On their routine walk, they observed from a distance, it was a town that came into view, hidden in the valley below. The midday sun was warm against his skin, and the air carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
As they approached, Zen noticed a group of young women walking toward the town, their baskets filled with fresh fruit. His stomach, as if on cue, grumbled in protest.
Guess stopping here isn't a bad idea.
He straightened his tunic, adjusting the cloth strapped across his chest. His wavy hair, still damp, clung lazily to his forehead as he stepped forward with an easy stride.
"Excuse me, ladies," he called out smoothly.
The four girls turned in unison, their expressions shifting from mild curiosity to amusement. One of them, the tallest of the group, tilted her head. "Yes?" she asked, her voice both sweet and confident.
Zen opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Muki let out a sharp meow. That was all it took.
In an instant, the girls' attention was stolen by the tiny creature perched on his shoulder. Their questions about him could wait—there was a kitten to fawn over.
Zen sighed, watching as Muki basked in the affection, rubbing against their hands like she had planned this all along.
"Who are you?" one of the girls finally asked, her gaze flicking back to him.
Zen smirked, shifting his stance. "Well, I'm Zen," he said. "And this little troublemaker here is Muki."
He hesitated for a moment, the words forming before he even realized it.
"I… I'm an adventurer."
I guess that's what I am now