My cat Urus - 11

Brad expected a disaster. He expected screaming, accusations, maybe even the cops.

What he didn’t expect was what happened the next morning.

He was walking up the steps to school, in male form, thank god, when he heard a voice behind him:

“Praise be to Urus, the Radiant Shifter!”

Brad stopped dead.

Turned around.

And saw Josh.

Still a girl.

Dressed in what used to be his own hoodie and jeans, but now oversized and hanging off a body that didn’t quite fit them. Her long hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and she was clutching a notebook like it was holy scripture.

“Uh... Josh?”

The girl beamed. “Brad! Or should I say Chosen Companion of the Celestial One! It is an honor!”

Brad blinked. “...You okay?”

Josh nodded seriously. “I spent the night meditating. Urus came to me in my moment of fear and showed me the truth. He is not a demon. He is divine. I am merely his humble servant now.”

Brad stared at her. “You screamed and ran out of the school like a bat out of hell.”

Josh bowed slightly. “And in that fear, I was reborn.”

Brad groaned.

Later, in the same empty room from yesterday, Brad was pacing nervously while Urus floated lazily near the ceiling, eating a bag of marshmallows he had apparently conjured from nothing.

Josh kneeled on the floor, head bowed, hands together like she was praying.

Urus chuckled. “I must admit, this kind of attention is very satisfying.”

Brad ran a hand through his hair. “Can you please fix her already?!”

“She’s happy.” He popped a marshmallow into his mouth. “You could learn something from her. Where’s your reverence?”

“Probably buried under the trauma you’ve caused me!”

Urus ignored that. Josh looked up with shining eyes. “Master Urus... shall I build you a shrine?”

“Yes.” He grinned, glowing a little brighter. “With incense. And floating candles. And grapes.”

“Right away!”

Josh scurried out of the room with unnatural enthusiasm.

Brad slumped onto a chair. “You’re feeding this.”

“Why not? Every powerful being deserves a loyal disciple.”

“Even if she used to be your blackmailer?!”

Urus shrugged. “Humility suits her.”

But by the end of the day, Urus was noticeably... less amused.

Josh had followed him around everywhere. She brought him a half-finished clay idol during math class. She recited poems to him at lunch. She whispered “celestial wisdom” into Brad’s ear in front of the vending machines.

Brad was amused. At first.

By seventh period, Urus was face-down floating in the air like a tired balloon.

“Make it stop,” he groaned.

Brad leaned against the lockers, grinning. “What happened to every powerful being deserves a loyal disciple?”

“Disciples are exhausting. She asked me what my ‘sacred number’ is. I told her seven. Then she brought me seven pencils, seven chewing gums, and seven leaves from the parking lot tree.”

Brad snorted. “Sucks, huh?”

Urus sat up and snapped his fingers.

A soft pulse of light.

And then Josh reappeared, now as himself again, staring down at his hands in shock.

“Wait wait, I’m... I’m me?”

Urus nodded. “You’ve served your purpose. Go. Be normal.”

Josh looked between them. “But, what about the secrets? The...”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll turn you into a moss-covered garden gnome.”

Josh paled. “Noted.”

And ran off.

Again.

That night, Brad stood in front of his mirror.

He was in his female form now. By agreement.

Loose sleep shorts, oversized T-shirt, bare legs.

He ran a hand through his now-silky hair, eyeing the way his features had softened again. His cheeks. His lashes. The way the shirt hung.

It didn’t feel weird anymore.

That was the weird part.

He sat on the bed, absent-mindedly brushing his hair out of habit. A month ago, he wouldn’t have even known how.

Now?

He sighed.

This was dangerous.

He was getting used to it.

Sometimes he forgot until he spoke or walked past a mirror. Sometimes it was useful, no questions asked when he walked into the girls’ side of the café. One guy had even held the door open and offered him a free iced tea.

It was... easy.

And that scared him.

He looked over at Urus, who was laying upside down on the windowsill, legs crossed, stargazing.

“...Urus.”

“Hm?”

“I think I’m losing myself.”

Urus didn’t move. “Or maybe you’re just becoming more of yourself.”

Brad frowned. “That’s not reassuring.”

Urus chuckled. “Don’t worry. The line between identity and transformation has always been blurry.”

Brad laid back on the bed, hands folded on his stomach.

He didn’t sleep immediately.

His body didn’t feel like home anymore.

But it didn’t feel like a stranger either.