Chapter 8: What Lies Behind the Sky THATWARD HO: Baka the Bakeneko chapter 8 by JollyJoe

The dream, the memory, was a damaged reel left in the rain. Grain flickered.

 

Breathing flowers left a faded perfume. The black haired woman snipped lower leaves on each. Then the tea leaves. 

 

She boiled the leaves. Then let the water rest. The woman poured a cup. 

 

Soft feet. Silent feet. She was to be seen, not heard. The woman brought the tea to Mr. Higashibōjō. He was entertaining a guest. The guest was pretty. In the way all American women were. Tall. Loud. Aggressive. 

 

He saw all women as trophies to be won. Perhaps that was why he was so good to her in the past. She was game for the hunter. And now that he had her, there was no reason to be interested in her.

 

The guest laughed loudly at something he said. Mr. Higashibōjō’s hand rested on the American’s thigh. High enough that it was no longer polite. 

 

The black-haired woman set the tea down without a sound and retreated to the edge of the room, sitting in seiza. She kept her brown eyes low.

 

She had once believed this house, in this dry and ugly land, might become something like home. Once, she was little more than a stray kitten. He had taken her in. He gave her a name and promised her protection. He told her he would give her everything that lies behind the sky. A future in the stars. 

 

Now they were here in America, where neither belonged. He told her again, before they ran. He'd give her everything that lies behind the sky. Then they arrived in their new home. Days passed. Weeks. Months. Years. When she was like a stray kitten, he proffered out a bowl of milk. Little did she know then that the milk was sour.

 

She cooked his meals. She scrubbed his floors. That was her job. They were married, after all. He brought home guests, and she would be expected to serve them in silence. It wasn't like she could talk to them if she wanted to. She did not know much of their language.

 

Some of the guests were men. Some of them reached for her, and Mr. Higashibōjō laughed and let it happen. 

 

Some of the guests were women. 

 

****

 

At night, she would lay on her thin mat in a small back room. Her husband, her master, did not share his mattress. 

 

And at night, a stray white cat would appear at her window. She would let it in, though her husband hated cats because they shed hair, and he did not like their entitled attitude. 

 

The cat would curl against her. They would cuddle. The cat was always warm, and its purring would comfort her. She would look at the stars and ask the purring creature, “Is this what lies behind the sky?”

 

****

 

Mr. Higashibōjō had been drinking for hours. His fine robes were stained with it. There were no guests that night. It was only him and her. 

 

And his face was ugly with rage.

 

She had told him, “You told me once that you loved me. And once I believed you. You promised you would give me all that lies behind the sky, but I don't even have the earth. I don't even have this home, you share it with others. But I don't want any of those, I only want you. Is that too much to ask? Am I not enough for you?”

 

He stood over her, noble and stern. Holding a cup in hand, he kicked the woman to the ground. “How dare you think you are anything more than what you are. A stray I took in when you had nowhere else to go. And look where it got me. Disowned by my own family. Runned out of my home, forced to come here, in this land of cattle. To live like a farm animal!” 

 

That was one of many nights. Many came before. Many came after.

 

And one night, he went further than before. He dragged her by the hair, and he hit much harder. 

 

“Please master,” she begged him. “Please, no more!”

 

But he was consumed by his own inner demons. He took her kaiken from her kimono and plunged it deep in her heart.

 

He dragged her body far from his house. In an open field in the dry plains. He did not bury her. He dropped the knife beside her. “You wanted the Earth, was that right? Well there's your Earth.” He said to her.

 

She was left to die, staring at the stars. Wondering.

 

What lies behind the sky?

 

When she died, the cat that would so often comfort her came. It licked at her bleeding heart. Its green eyes glowed brightly.

 

****

 

Mr. Higashibōjō stumbled back toward the house. His chest was heaving, his robes soaked in blood. “Stray bitch. Ruined everything.”

 

He slammed the door behind him. He bolted it. He got to his knees and poured himself another cup of sake with shaking hands. He sighed in relief after a sip. Then looked about.

 

Something was wrong in the house. It was quiet. Quiet, when there should be noise. Panels of a wood panels rustled together. A grandfather clock ticked slowly. Silk screens fluttered though no wind blew. It started to rain outside. But all was quiet. 

 

Shadows lengthened across the tatami mats. Mr. Higashibōjō drank deeply and tried to pour another cup, but the jug was empty.

 

Purring broke the silence. Soft at first. Then it grew louder. 

 

There was a movement in the corner of his eye. He turned quickly to catch it. There was nothing there. But he still heard the purring.

 

Mr. Higashibōjō stood. He walked towards the sound. It came from the East hall. 

 

He gripped the empty jug like a club, knuckles tight. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

 

His shout was answered with the deep laugh of a woman. Another movement. A cat's tail. He turned.

 

Nothing. A cold shudder ran down his spine. Then a warm breath on the back of his neck. 

 

He whirled again. A window. A paw print. A paw print larger than his head.

 

Mr. Higashibōjō took two steps back. His head pressed into something soft. Something large was behind him. He turned again.

 

Stunned, his jug shattered on the floor.

 

It was his wife. But it wasn't. 

 

She was huge. With white hair, large and wild. Cat ears stop her head. A tail lashing slowly behind a fat ass. Tits that could not only smother Mr. Higashibōjō, but crush him. Paws instead of hands and feet, each as wide as a frying pan. 

 

She was naked. With glowing green eyes, looking at Mr. Higashibōjō as if he were prey. The creature purred.

 

Naturally, he ran screaming.

 

The chase was a cruel game. She let him think he had a chance, her heavy footsteps thumping behind him as he scrambled through the halls. He slipped on a mat, face slamming into a tatami. A naked foot—a woman’s foot, no longer a paw—landed inches from his nose. The other scooped his body and sent him sprawling. Mr. Higashibōjō crawled, only for her to pounce and bat him aside. Each time he gained a few feet, a claw hooked his robe and yanked him back.

 

Finally, when his lungs burned and his body trembled, she pinned him on his back with a massive foot. Her sole pressed down, grinding her heel into his chest. Ribs cracked audibly. He screamed.

 

“Shh.” The creature warned. She raised her foot and brought her toes to his face. “Lick.” She commanded.

 

Mr. Higashibōjō sobbed, but terror won. Her big toe forced its way into his mouth, salty and warm. The pad, soft. He sucked desperately as her heel pressed down on his sternum with every hesitation. 

 

She made him worship each toe and every crevice between. Her hand rubbed between her thick thighs, slick sounds accompanied her deepening purrs.

 

When the toes were glistened, she presented the entire sole. “Clean.” 

 

The weight increased. He was smothered in that soft, yielding flesh. It smelled of rain, of blood, and naked musk. He frantically licked every crease, gasping for air only when she allowed it. 

 

The pressure built between her legs as she watched him degrade himself. Her hips rolled with her hand. She grinded a heel into his ribs. 

 

Upon satisfaction, she lifted her foot. Mr. Higashibōjō had shrunk in this nightmare’s twisted logic. He was no larger than a rat, broken and sobbing. 

 

She lifted him with her toes, dangling him upside down above her open maw. She found pleasure in his pathetic cries. Toying with him one final time, she pressed him in her fluid satisfaction, rubbing his tiny body along her folds until he was coated and gasping. Then she dangled him again above her mouth. Then she dropped him.

 

Her foot caught him again. She shoved him toes-first to her mouth. She sucked her foot clean. Her tongue wrapped around him. She tasted his pain and pleasure. He thrashed in the hot cavern, violated by the tossing and turning of wet sandpaper. 

 

Then, she swallowed.

 

Mr. Higashibōjō slid down her throat in a tight embrace. He bulged her neck briefly before vanishing completely. Inside, her stomach clenched around him. Acids burned broken skin. Eventually, his struggles stopped. 

 

Mr. Higashibōjō was no more. 

 

The cat moaned in ecstasy, one paw rubbing the slight swell of her abdomen while her other worked furiously between her legs. 

 

****

 

When it was over, she licked any stray blood and juice from her paws. She was alone. Rain poured through the newly damaged roof, courtesy of her ever-increasing size. Emerald eyes stared at the stormy sky. 

 

Mr. Higashibōjō was no more. There was only the monster and the manor. Soon, they were gone too. She was in the house, alone, in a world between worlds. With no one to love. No one to torment.

 

For a long time, the cat and house were myth. To most folk, there was only a desolate dry few acres owned by a rich man who probably forgot he had the lot. 

 

Film grain flickered. The reel clicked. There was only darkness.