Ever wonder what it'd be like if animals could talk back? Not the cutesy cartoon crap — I mean really talk. Swear at you. Call you out when you forget to feed them. Snarky little bastards with fur.

  Yeah, I used to think that’d be hilarious.

  Until today.

  Until him.

  This wasn’t cute. This was nightmare fuel wrapped in whiskers.

  "I'll be damned..." The cat’s tail flicked. "Look at you. Still breathing." His voice dripped with the kind of contempt only something small and smug could get away with. "Last time I saw that ugly mug, you were halfway in the grave. Thought you’d finally croaked. Would’ve pissed on you, too."

  And the worst part? I followed him.

  Down some half-lit back alley where normal people had the good sense not to wander. I don't even know why. Maybe I figured if he tried to eat me, I’d brain him with a bread roll and make a break for it.

  What a solid plan.

  He sat there now, staring me down. "What?" His ears twitched. "Body forget how to speak? Lost your tongue... or just your spine?"

  My throat worked, dry as sandpaper.

  "...You're the cat," I said slowly, "the one that followed me into my apartment... aren't you?"

  His grin — if you could call that sharp little curl of lip a grin — was pure trouble.

  "Bingo."

  “How’d you—” I froze. Pieces slammed together in my head. “Wait. You did this? This whole freakshow?”

  The cat stretched out its tail flicking. “Well, well... look who’s got a couple neurons firing after all.” His eyes gleamed. “Took you long enough. I was starting to feel insulted.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Great. A talking cat with an ego problem. Just my luck.

  He didn’t even look powerful.. Just a scruffy, cocky stray who acted so big.

  Must’ve been compensating.

  “Why?” I snapped. “You kidnapped me here, Pikachu. What’d you expect me to do — bake you cookies?”

  His tail froze mid-swing.

  “First of all—” His voice dropped an octave. “Watch your damn mouth.” Flick. Slow. Controlled. “Second… Pikachu? Really? Out of all the names rattling around that garbage disposal you call a brain... that’s what you landed on?”

  We locked eyes.

  Everything in me screamed run. Bolt down the alley. Never look back.

  Instead, I stood there like an idiot.

  He exhaled through his nose “The name’s Ricusoss,” he said.

  Should I kneel or kiss his paw or whatever cats thought respect looked like? “Learn it. Remember it. Lineage of kings — strays that walked where men crawled.”

  Then quieter. “And I don’t do lightning tricks, idiot.”

  I dragged a hand down my face. “Right. Got it. Ricusoss. Stray King. Big deal.” I dead-eyed him. “So, tell me, oh mighty furball... why’d you drag me here? Kidnap me? Curse me?”

  Did he just growl? “Tch…That’s a fine title,” he muttered, “shame it sounds like it fell out of a fool’s mouth.”

  “Whatever you say, King of Fleas.” I crossed my arms. “Let’s skip to the part where you tell me what the hell you want.”

  Ricusoss’ tail stopped mid-air once again.

  “I don’t owe you the whole story,” he said.. “Not yet. First — you’re going to prove yourself.”

  Oh, good. A talking cat and a mob boss.

  I sighed. “And what kind of suicidal favor are we talking about here?”

  Ricusoss clicked his tongue. “First off — didn’t expect you to be a scrawny little kid. That’s on me. Second — you’re short. Way too short. That won’t cut it. So here’s the deal — you’re training. Build yourself up first, then we’ll talk business.”

  I squinted at him. “Right. Or a crazy idea, you could tell me what this ‘business’ is before I break my back doing squats for a talking stray.”

  His ears twitched. “Tch... stubborn brat.”

  He let out a long sigh, as if I was exhausting his royal patience.

  “Fine. Since you’re so desperate to know — I dragged you here to stop something. Something bad. Big enough to wipe this world clean. There — happy now, smartmouth?”

  The one who dragged me here. I didn’t know if I’d really died or what the hell was going on. But I sure as hell wasn’t buying into his little "hero's journey" act. Like I’d be the one to save a world or stop some apocalypse? Please. He had the brain damage, not me.

  I leaned back, arms crossed tight. “So, what? You expect me to help you with your little problem?”

  Ricusoss snorted, like I’d said something hilarious. “Problem of mine? Nah, that’s your problem too, kid.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?” I could feel the anger stirring. “You drop me into some weird ass world after I’m barely wrapping my head around the fact that cancer’s slowly killing me, and you think I’m gonna help with whatever mess you’re in?”

  I laughed, a dry, bitter sound that came out more like a cough. “This some kind of joke?”

  Ricusoss tilted his head, giving me that cold, dead stare. “Fine. You wanna hear the truth?” His voice dropped lower, distant. “I’ve seen your lifespan. Wanna know how much time you’ve got left since we met at that convenience store?”

  My chest tightened, but I couldn’t help myself. Curiosity, twisted as hell, won out. “Yeah. Tell me.”

  He studied me for a beat. "You were supposed to die that night.”

  I froze. “I did die.”

  Ricusoss’ eyes didn’t even blink. “No. You got knocked out. But what came after... that’s a whole different story.” He leaned in. “You were supposed to feel a pain so deep it would’ve eaten you alive. And you’d have been alone. No one there to see it. No one to stop it.”

  Then I couldn’t move.

  “You got a second chance, kid. Die in agony or wake up somewhere else. As a kid.” His grin was sharp. “No big deal, right?”