154-Minchan: The God of Stealth and Posterity

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Title: The God of Stealth and Posterity

Ship: Minchan

TW: mentions of war and torture
*not rlly edited lol

Chan's cottage had always been bigger than it needed to be. The kitchen and great chamber paralleled each other and down the hall were four bed chambers, only one larger than the rest with a bathroom accompanying it.

  While Chan's big bed chamber had been decorated with furniture (and a dream catcher he made when he was child in hopes to please the dream god), the other three always sat empty. They lacked Chan's care and attention for there was no reason for them.

  Chan only had the cottage thanks to his time at war. When asked what he'd like in return for his service, he asked for a homey cottage on the edges of the city with a garden of crops he could spend his time attending to.

  Perhaps he had forgotten how he young he truly was when he asked for such a thing at nineteen. He had felt old from the traumas of war. He'd watched people die and children innate, women's bellies swell until they popped with bastards. In the five years he spent at war, he had witnessed many things that life gave and took. And it took a lot.

  So Chan grew lonely. As he fetched water from the well up the hill from his home, he wondered silently what it would be like to take a wife. For her to bare his children and to grow a happy and healthy family. He wasn't all that enthralled to have a wife, but to have children of his own to raise and to cherish made a smile spread across his face.

  Chan paused when he reached the well. He held the empty bucket in his hand that he had planned to switch with what should be a full one, but it seemed a cat had found it's way into the bucket in the wall.

  A black cat stood on the stone of the well, it's fur clambering down to its skin with water. It shook itself, sitting down to lick itself clean of the well water it had took a swim in.

  Chan let out an amused breath. He hadn't seen many cats, but enough to know to never approach to quick, or even at all if one could avoid it. Cats were creatures who took pride in having their own bubble of space. One couldn't force themself into the bubble, they'd only pop it. The cat was the only one that could open it up and let one in, and they would only do it willingly.

  "You go a for a swim?" Chan took a small step forward. "I hope you don't get sick."

  The cat stopped licking itself and paused to give Chan a stare. It's pupils thinned to slits in its green irises.

  "Come on, kitty. I got crops to water and you're standing in front of the well." Chan took another small step forward.

  When the cat only returned to licking itself clean, Chan let out a sigh. He supposed the crops could wait awhile longer. The sun wasn't going down any time soon, and he hadn't actually spoken to anyone besides some of the shop keepers in the market place once a week. Sure, maybe it was a cat he was speaking to, but a cat was better than no one. He sat down, legs crossed and the empty bucket by his side.

  Chan held out his hand, rubbing his fingers togethers. He clicked his tongue, remembering how one of his former legions called a roaming cat in the foreign land. "Come on, kitty. I ain't gonna bite."

  The cat paused again, this time choosing to stay in a sitting position on the stone wall of the well. It's ears flickered upon the noise, and it's tail swung back and forth with curiosity. It let out a small chirp as it lowered its head to attempt to meet Chan's eye level, though failing terribly.

  A smile slipped onto Chan's lips. "Yeah, hi." He said, though he kept up with the movements of his fingers. "You like scratches, don't you? Come 'ere kitty."

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