My cat Urus - 6

The next few days were peaceful, suspiciously so.

Brad almost dared to believe things had returned to normal. Urus stayed quiet most of the time, sulking or meditating or whatever cosmic spirits did when they were pouting. Brad went to school, hung out with Marcus and Jenna, played video games, and passed his math test without divine intervention.

For once, life didn’t feel like it was constantly unraveling.

Sure, every night he fell asleep wondering whether he’d wake up with long hair or a voice like his mom’s, but nothing happened. He’d wake up, groggy and male, his bed a mess and his mind clear. No sudden chest weight. No curves. No girly clothes.

He’d won.

Or so he thought.

What Brad didn’t know was this:

Each night, as he drifted into unconsciousness, Urus stirred.

The spirit hovered above him like mist clinging to light. Not speaking. Not moving. Just watching.

Then slowly, with patience only an immortal exile could possess, Urus reached into the dreamless quiet and shifted things.

Not all at once.

Just slightly.

The bones in Brad’s hips softened, a tiny adjustment of angle, no more noticeable than a stretch during sleep. His eyelashes lengthened imperceptibly. The slope of his lower back gained a subtle, elegant curve.

Each change was microscopic. Each one invisible on its own.

But they added up.

And still, Brad remained unaware.

By day, everything felt normal. Except…

“Dude,” Marcus said at lunch, squinting. “Did you do something to your hair?”

Brad blinked, mid-bite. “What? No.”

“Looks longer. Like… a bit?”

Jenna leaned in too, brow raised. “Actually yeah. And it’s kinda shiny?”

Brad frowned, touching a strand. It did fall differently against his forehead. Softer maybe. Less greasy?

“New shampoo,” he muttered. “My mom switched brands.”

Jenna shrugged. “Well, it suits you.”

Brad snorted. “Thanks, I guess.”

The next morning, Brad stood in front of the bathroom mirror in a towel after his shower, blinking at his reflection.

Something looked… different.

He couldn’t quite place it.

His jaw looked the same. His shoulders too. But his skin, was it clearer? His lips seemed a bit fuller, almost like he’d bitten them.

Weird.

He turned and checked himself in profile. Something about the way the towel wrapped around his waist seemed off. Like his hips pushed it higher than usual.

“…Nah,” he muttered, shaking it off.

Just his imagination.

Back in his room, Urus lay curled in the corner like a sleeping cat. Silent. Still.

Brad didn’t notice the small glimmer of light flicker over his hands as he pulled on his shirt, how his fingers looked a touch slimmer. How the shirt hugged just a bit tighter around his waist than it had last week.

He was too busy thinking about the video game tournament that afternoon.

Too busy living.

Urus opened one eye and whispered to himself:

“So much easier when they stop paying attention.”