Catch the Thunder

Trash Cat

Their world went back to normal in the following weeks. Freed woke up at dawn and cooked breakfast, which would inevitably wake up Laxus, cranky that it was morning already. They ate together, both on their phones. Then Freed would kiss Laxus goodbye and rush off to work while the sleepyhead groggily finished his coffee.

A few things changed, though. For one, Freed joined the local fencing club. On weekends, Laxus watched him practice. He was impressed with Freed's mastery over the sword, and Freed quickly rose to be one of their best fencers, although he complained that he was out of shape.

The other big change was for Laxus. He began to volunteer at the Mermaid Heel Shelter for abused spouses. They were progressing with construction of an on-site school, so he spent a few hours a day moving boxes and furniture. The children loved having him lift them high up into the air and swinging them around, something that panicked Matron Kagura every single time.

At times, working at the shelter hurt Laxus' soul, seeing some of the new kids come in, a blank expression of trauma on their tiny faces. What kept him going was knowing that he could help them and make a lasting impression.

It was like Freed had said about those Roman monuments.

"A building doesn't change the world. Our actions do! Our acts of kindness and charity ripple through the ages, leaving deep impressions long after our name is forgotten."

If he could help rescue a single child, just imagine the ripples that action would make throughout the future.

After working, he came home via the bus, often to find Freed back before him, either exhausted from a bad day and crashed out on the couch, or cheerful from a good day and eager for a little friskiness before dinner. They ate, watched either TV, YouTube, or a movie together, and depending on the day and how they both felt, they either went to bed with a kiss goodnight, or they made love first, sometimes gentle, sometimes—especially on Fridays when they knew they could recover—they turned up the kinks.

One October day, Laxus missed the bus home from the shelter and decided to walk instead. Autumn was in full bloom, with orange leaves fluttering like falling flames and collecting in gutters like urban rivers of fire. He liked this type of weather, when the city took on bright colors, when he could wear a thick jacket but still not need to worry too much about the cold.

Laxus was enjoying the late afternoon walk when he heard a sound like a tiny cry. He paused, scanning his surroundings, until his ears picked up the sound again coming from a dark alley filled with the stench of decay. Trash bags were piled carelessly, some torn open by scavengers.

The cry came again, softer but insistent.

A cat!

Something in his chest tightened. This was not just a meow from any random alley cat. It sounded like a tiny cry for help.

"Can't just walk by," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath before stepping into the putrid alley.

He carefully picked his way through the refuse, the sound growing louder with each step, like the cat knew he was coming to the rescue. Finally, he stopped in front of a bag that twitched unnaturally. Without hesitation, he ripped it open, spilling its grimy contents. The smell hit him harder, and he turned his head away as he felt like he might vomit.

There, among the mess, was a trembling, malnourished kitten, its fur matted with dirt and dried blood.

Laxus' jaw tightened in disgust. "What kind of asshole would do such a thing?" He noticed a huge bite on the kitten's shoulder, scabbed over but still matted with blood. "You poor thing." Carefully, he scooped the kitten up. "Easy, easy, I've got you."