It was just one of those days when everything went utterly, spectacularly wrong.
I was awkwardly balanced on the lip of a roof, struggling to regain my footing after yet another legendary pratfall during my training exercise. Of course, I'd just been thrown (by accident, naturally) into a nearby market stall, where I promptly toppled a pyramid of tomatoes. My assassin's cloak had become entangled in a heap of lettuce, and I found myself face-first in a box of cucumbers.
I struggled to claw my way out of the vegetable chaos when I heard Rael's voice echoing from above.
"You okay down there?"
I paused, considering. "Honestly? No." I straightened up, spitting out a stray piece of lettuce. "Also, I think I'm allergic to cucumbers now."
Rael sighed from above. "You'll get the hang of it, eventually. Maybe."
I glanced down at my knotted cloak and defeated form, then sighed theatrically. "Well, I don't know how, but I certainly seem to be proficient at falling."
And then, it hit me. A sudden, piercing revelation—one as sharp as the realization that cucumbers might be my sworn enemy.
I landed on my feet.
Like, in an instant.
I'd just tumbled over the edge of the roof, and in mid-flight, my body rotated smoothly—like I was a cat once more. I didn't think; I just knew.
Rael had already descended to assist me out of the vegetable stall debacle, likely to ream me out for turning market stalls into my personal obstacle course. But I stood up, brushing lettuce leaves off my shoulders, and—just as I was about to apologize—my tail twitched with fresh confidence.
"Wait a minute," I exclaimed, suddenly conscious of my newfound balance. "Wait. WAIT. I… I'm good at this."
Rael arched an eyebrow. "You're good at getting yourself wedged in carts of vegetables?"
"No!" I almost screamed, twirling in circles with a level of grace I didn't know I had. "I'm good at landing on my feet!"
Rael gave me the most confused look, arms folded. "You've been falling off roofs for the last hour, and now you think you're graceful?"
I puffed out my chest, as dignified as a mud-covered assassin could manage. "No, Rael. You don't get it! I have… cat instincts!"
Rael blinked. "Cat instincts?"
"Yeah! Cat instincts! Like, I know how to land on my feet now!" I leaped from one rooftop to another to demonstrate. Although, I admit, I landed on the edge of the roof and almost toppled off. But my tail twitched, and I steadied myself with a ridiculous sense of pride. "See?!"
Rael facepalmed. "That was a disaster waiting to happen."
I straightened up, shaking my tail dramatically. "No, no. It was perfect. Perfection. I'm telling you, I'm a natural. I just need a little more… practice." I gestured around at the toppled carts and scattered produce. "And fewer vegetables, maybe."
That's when it hit me even harder than before: I was a cat. Or at least, I had cat instincts.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn't just the "landing on my feet" thing that made sense. It was… all of it.
I saw it when I dozed off in the middle of a sentence during Rael's "very serious lesson" on the use of poisons. I had stretched out on the floor, perfectly at ease, and fallen asleep. Rael simply glared at me for a few moments before sighing, muttering something about "ridiculously lazy students," but I didn't care. I was comfortable.
I woke up some eighteen hours later, feeling like I'd just napped like a royal cat in a bed of catnip.
"Is this some sort of assassin training?" I yawned, stretching like a well-fed cat.
"No. But apparently, it's your training," Rael snapped, no longer shocked by my ability to nap like a feline expert.
And I knew something back then, too. I didn't just sleep when I was tired. I went looking for cozy spots to curl up and nap. Whether it was atop a box of supplies, in the tiny alcove of our training room, or even a sunny spot by the window, if there was a cozy spot, I was there, enjoying my best life.
Later, when Rael was teaching me how to crack into a guarded fortress (not entirely sure why this was in my training—why practice cracking fortresses when I still couldn't avoid falling off roofs?), I caught myself completely distracted by the scent of food.
A food cart, to be specific.
I couldn't resist. My ears perked up, my tail twitched involuntarily, and I had this inexplicable compulsion to attack it.
Rael saw me acting strangely. "Mochi…" they began slowly. "Do you… do you want fish?"
I nodded eagerly, not even trying to hide my excitement. "I haven't eaten anything since the cucumber incident."
"You ate half a loaf of bread before that," Rael muttered, shaking their head. "And you're still hungry?"
I looked at them with all the dignity a seven-lifetime cat assassin could muster. "Yes. I'm starving. And I'm curious about fish."
As I walked through the market that evening (tail flicking contentedly behind me), I realized something profoundly important about my new assassin life. It wasn't that I was becoming a trained killer—it was that I was beginning to embrace my instincts from a previous life.
I was always fascinated by everything around me, ever curious to find the best spot for a nap, and completely governed by whatever shiny object, food source, or fascination captured my attention in any given moment.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the way to becoming an awesome assassin was going to be a lot less about schooling and much more about curiosity.
And that was fine.
I was, after all, a cat at heart.
Maybe I might actually get this done after all.