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Cat Not Weasel

Cat, Not Weasel

“Stop calling me weasel!” Misao shouted, brandishing her fist at Sano. The bird brain had been slinging the nick name at her all day, and she was getting sick of it.

“Why, just look at you. You slink around like one. You squeak like one. You’re small like one. And if it looks like a weasel, acts like a weasel, and sounds like a weasel, it must be a weasel.”

“Don’t call me weasel!” Kunai followed the indignant shriek.

“Hehe, yeah. Your totally puny,” Yahiko smiled wickedly.

“You shut up twerp! Kencho Kick!”

Aoshi walked into the training hall silently. He stood, watching as Misao chased Yahiko and Sano around the room.

“Weasel, weasel, weasel,” Yahiko repeated over and over.

“I’m not a weasel!”

“Yeah you are.”

“I don’t think Misao is a weasel,” Aoshi spoke up, scaring the trio and stopping them in their tracks.

“Aoshi-sama,” Misao smiled.

“I think she’s more of a cat,” he corrected. “A half smile, but not really” (as Misao called it. He’s happy, amused, but he still doesn’t really smile!) crossed Aoshi’s face.

Misao blushed. She didn’t know how to react if Aoshi was actually making a joke off of her.

“A weasel cat. Ew, what a weird mix!” Yahiko teased.


Why did he get into that? Aoshi wondered while he was meditating later that day. It was so childish. But it was to amusing to pass up. Why a cat though? Why did he actually reveal that private thought?

Aoshi had always thought of Misao as more of a cat. A really annoying cat at times, a cat that never settled down, but a cat none the less.

When she had been younger, she always used to hop onto the table where he was working and hide the paper work. Just like a cat, she would sit on as much of it as she could, so he would have to give her attention eventually.

Then there was the way she used to curl up when she was ready to sleep. During the summer nights, when the night air was just right, he would always sit outside. Misao always had a tenancy to join him, even when she was exhausted. The little six-year-old would sit with him for a while, then just curl up next to him with her head in his lap. There were times he expected her to purr her contentment.

“Aoshi-sama! I brought you your tea!” Misao stated loudly as she opened the door.

Yes, only felines moved like that. So graceful and fluid. Until…

Misao lost her balance. Somehow, she managed to turn her self around as she fell and landed perfectly on her butt. One of the tea mugs on the tray fell off and shattered, but the other one sloshed it’s contents around.

“Ow,” Misao whined.

Aoshi smiled that small, bemused smile and closed his eyes. All right. A very clumsy cat, but still…a cat.

Misao looked at Aoshi. Had he seen that? Oh, he had! He was smiling that smile that wasn’t really there again!

“Misao?” Aoshi looked up. “Are you all right?”

Misao smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I think so. Here’s your tea!”