# the awakening chapter IV.

{ the pet names }

Junhong gulped in horror. Yet he did not move, and past the confused surprise that was set on his face, he did not react further. He simply stared at the boyish man, mind blank and heartbeat deafening. 

“Shapeshifting familiar.” The other explained after a while, apparently losing patience. One of his hands quit its place on his thighs in favour of passing through his hair, and revealed in their wake two sharp, furry ears.

“You’re… The…” 

“Panther, yes. Shapeshifting familiar.” He repeated, voice aggravated. 

Junhong couldn’t help the astonishment, the admiration and wonder in his eyes as he examined him more thoroughly, without approaching. 

The familiar’s ears and tail remained, just like Daehyun’s did, yet it looked different on every level on the panther’s petite human form. The creature had a round, soft face, fair skin and slender limbs; he looked fragile and delicate, by no means comparable to the feline that faced him merely half an hour before. Where Daehyun kept his fierce, powerful aura no matter his form, the panther had two very distinct facets to his appearance that could not be confounded.

The wizard noted to himself that the ears and tail looked more like some quirky apparel than a reminiscence of the animal’s greatness.

The other boy grunted loudly in annoyance, all patience lost. “Did I stutter? I asked for clothes, meatball.”

Junhong felt all marks of amazement ebb out of his mind quickly, soon replaced by displeasure. He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together firmly. For a split second, he wondered how he was supposed to react, or if he could possibly just punch the shifter. But  a quick glance at his wounded leg wiped most of his irritation out.

“Sure.” Junhong tilted his head left and jerked it in the direction of the corridor. “Follow me, fluffball.”

He still faced the other for enough time to see him grimace, nose wrinkling up in what could have been threatening if it still had been a muzzle, before turning around and leading the way toward his bedroom.

Junhong opened his drawer but found himself at a loss for choice, not knowing what would fit the panther better. He did not especially want to give it his worst clothes, the ones that itched or were too tight, but couldn’t set his mind on anything suitable for the feline. He heard an annoyed sigh behind his back, and moved out of the way with a constricted grin.

“Help yourself.”

No thanks were said. Instead, the familiar glared at him, then gripped the chest drawer and snatched the first T-Shirt that came under his hand off the stack. He took a bit more time to select trousers that would fit him, before finally settling on a pair of blue and yellow sport shorts that the wizard hadn’t worn since high school. The latter almost snickered.

“Boxers?”

“The drawer below.” Junhong replied easily.

He watched him go through his collection of underwear in silence. His eyes set on the boy’s back and observed the muscles flexing under skin, much like it had done when he was walking in his feline form; then they fell to his tail, which rested behind his legs lazily, the tip rocking left and right slowly. He was pulled out of his examination when the other closed the chest with his knee and turned toward him, arms full of clothes.

“Bathroom?”

“Corridor, first door to your right.”

“Great. Don’t disturb me.”

As he walked past him, Junhong couldn’t help but notice how heavily the young man was limping. He stole a glance at his leg, the wound looking even nastier on his human form, with no fur to protectively hide it. Its edges had turned black, yet the flesh, shining with too much lymphatic fluid than what the wizard considered normal, was a flaming bright red. 

Before the shifter could disappear through the door, Junhong grabbed him by the shoulder, almost making him drop the stack of fabric in his arms.

“You should have a bit of healing potion first.” 

The familiar looked at him dead in the eyes, faint surprise reflecting in his dark orbs. However, all of it was gone once his brows furrowed in exasperation.

“It tastes like .”

Junhong’s hand left his arm, startled from the other’s boldness and lack of gratitude, but still didn’t lower his glare. He gritted his teeth.

“I made a jar of cream out of the same mix, you could rub it on your wound. Or take regular painkillers.”

“All right simpleton,” The familiar sighed. “It’s a magical wound. Magical. Your little human ways have no on real, really magical, wounds.”

“I’m not human!” Junhong defensively curled his hands into fists at his sides, only to stretch them out a second later and exhaling a loud, supposedly calming, breath. “You can’t stay like that, you’re in too much pain. Just tell me what kind of potion you need and I will prepare it.”

Mistrust and defiance seemed to fill the feline as his eyes narrowed significantly, shoulders forming a straight line around his tensed neck. A quiet snarl could be heard in his voice as he spat out “Why would you care?”

“I didn’t take you home to let you die.” Junhong noted the familiar relaxed just the slightest at that, and therefore pursued with humour, “And you’re going to spread blood on all of my furniture if the wound re-opens.”

The creature raised his eyebrows, his tail jiggling in interest. “You humans are such materialistic beings, it’s actually pretty impressive.”

“I’m not ing human!”

Junhong voice rose high, loud and threatening, visibly alarming the familiar for a brief instant — his tail stopped waving, body standing unmoving in front of the taller boy, and although his face stayed impassible, his ears flattened in shock. Soon however, a feline grin broke on his childish face, and he was back to the lazy attitude.

“Right, you’re not.” His tail was slowly dancing behind him, as if to emphasise the mocking curl of his lips. “Use ginger and lotus in sea water, then. Cast a regeneration spell on it.”

Junhong lowered his gaze to ponder about it a brief second. “I think I’m out of lotus though.”

“Opium then?”

“That’s an illegal herb.”

“And you believe magic is any more legal?” He snapped, eyes rolling in annoyance. “Eucalyptus?”

“Yes, I think I do have eucalyptus.” 

If Junhong had stuttered just the slightest, it was only for the fact he wasn’t too sure about the amount of herb he still had in stock, and surely not because he was impressed by the confidence emanating in waves from the familiar.

The latter’s smile crept back in place, white teeth flashing brightly at him, before he breathed out a “Good.” and turned tail to exit the room.

Junhong spent at least ten minutes eagerly searching for sea water through the mess that was his little bureau, rehabilitated in a seedy workshop, and kept cursing himself for not labelling his vials properly. Distilled, mineral, rain, melted snow, de-ionized, boiled with sugar, boiled with salt, boiled with different kinds of flower petals, from a river, from a waterfall — he had all types of water, aligned one next to another on a wooden console, in between various hermetic sachets full of dried weeds. 

His workshop was unfilled though, still lacking, considering the variety of ingredients sorcerers needed for their craft. But how could he find enough place to store over one hundred books (and there, Junhong was only counting the fundamental ones), three thousand different species of herb in abundance, in diverse states of decay, up to their return to dust, litres and litres of fresh blood, at least eighty different sorts of iron tools and gadgets, all in one single room, in a 55 square metres apartment. Junhong, again, blamed his parents for not letting him inherit their mansion, as he remembered their attic flourishing with all of these, perfectly arranged thanks to his mother’s natural methodological behaviour.

When he finally found the desired flask, Junhong paused to exhale with relief, snatched the two bags full of herbs he was needing for the potion, and quickly walked toward his kitchen. Once there, he let all the ingredients fall onto his worktop, and pulled a clean cooking pot out of the cupboard.

The sea water took forever to come to ebullition — which left Junhong enough time to chop the dried herbs into small fragments, then into thinner pieces, and again, until there was nothing more on his cutting board than a sand-like powder. He was conscientious with his work, perhaps had it been why he didn’t notice the movements behind his back — but as he was about to add the mixture of plants in the salted liquid, he felt a quick draught of air behind his neck and jumped out of his skin, dropping both his knife and board in the boiling water.

As he turned around, he was greeted by two wide, mockingly curious eyes staring back at him.

“Did I say anything about ‘wood and iron’ in the simple three-items list of ingredients I gave you?” The creature drawled — if his sarcasm had been a solid entity, Junhong was pretty sure it would have been strong enough to slap him in the face.

“You actually did not.” Junhong’s jaw tensed, before he turned back towards the stove and tried his very best to retrieve the cooking tools without burning his hands. He took several shaky breaths as the hot mist curled around his fingers in the process, but managed to catch them at last, and finally placed the lid on top of the container. “How long should it infuse?”

“You tell me, you’re the wizard.” The other flashed him a bright, though obviously sarcastic grin.

“Five minutes? Yes, five minutes sounds good.”

The familiar’s smile fell down, replaced by an expression of utter disbelief. Junhong guessed his answer was not the desired one, but couldn’t correct himself as he genuinely didn’t know what was so wrong. Potions usually didn’t have to infuse very long, that was what made them so convenient after all.

“Simpleton, have you ever used sea water?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, for, hm…” A void suddenly formed in the wizard’s mind, making him unable to recall anything he had ever done, any magic spell he had casted or any potion he had brewed. The other’s eyes burned holes in his face and he suddenly grew extremely self-conscious.

“I see.” His gaze softened. “You have to cast the spell now, then leave the potion untouched for fifty minutes. The water has to be kept boiling through the whole process.”

Junhong nodded, feeling stupidly ashamed. “Which regeneration spell did you have in mind?”

“It starts like, F̴̓ɪ̶̛ᴀ̸̈ᴛ̵̂ ̴̔ʀ̴̌ᴇ̸̅ɴ̸͆ᴀ̵̀s̶̈́ᴄ̸̊ɪ̴̎ ̴̕ᴅ̶͝ᴇ̵̛ ̶̈ᴘ̴̀ᴜ̸̀ʟ̸̔ᴠ̴̃ᴇ̷̊ʀ̸́ᴇ̶̊ ̴͊ᴏ̸̅s̴̏s̸͛ᴀ̸̈́ ̴̛ᴍ̴̀ᴇ̴̐ᴀ̶̔. Do you know this one?

“I think I do? I’m not sure.” 

The creature’s tone had lost its mocking tone, rather it was soft and understanding. His lips curled upward easily before words escaped them. “Focus on the potion, repeat after me. And I beg of you, don’t stutter.”

Junhong nodded furiously, determination set in his features; then he closed his eyes slowly, trying to focus on summoning every bit of his magic. He felt a pulsation through the tips of his fingers.

“F̴̓ɪ̶̛ᴀ̸̈ᴛ̵̂ ̴̔ʀ̴̌ᴇ̸̅ɴ̸͆ᴀ̵̀s̶̈́ᴄ̸̊ɪ̴̎ ̴̕ᴅ̶͝ᴇ̵̛ ̶̈ᴘ̴̀ᴜ̸̀ʟ̸̔ᴠ̴̃ᴇ̷̊ʀ̸́ᴇ̶̊ ̴͊ᴏ̸̅s̴̏s̸͛ᴀ̸̈́ ̴̛ᴍ̴̀ᴇ̴̐ᴀ̶̔.” The pot’s lid gave a disapproving growl as soon as the wizard started enunciating the spell.

“ɪ̵̃ɢ̵̄ɴ̸̍ɪ̸͑s̸͝ ̴̎ᴇ̵̈x̷́ ̴͛ғ̶̽ᴀ̷̛ᴠ̴͛ɪ̴͝ʟ̷͘ʟ̶͝ᴀ̴̈́,”

Junhong kept his eyes closed as he repeated, the throbbing feeling through his body becoming painful; he heard the lid shake violently, causing a metallic rumble, but he tried to pay it no mind.

“ᴇ̷̈́ᴛ̸̿ ̸̅ᴘ̸̏ᴜ̶̒ᴛ̶́ʀ̷̄ᴇ̶̂ᴅ̵̋ɪ̶̓ɴ̸̌ᴇ̸̆ᴍ̸̎ ̷̈ᴄ̴̿ᴀ̶̃ʀ̵̐ɴ̸̀ᴇ̸̔ᴍ̶̀.”

He heard a clacking sound and more thundering, but the creature’s voice was staying unwavering, and he decided he had to trust him. He had to keep his eyes closed and focus.

“D̸̚ᴀ̶̅ ̴̀ᴀ̶́ʟ̵̅ɪ̵̀ᴜ̸͝s̸̆ ̵̇ᴄ̷͑ᴀ̸̄s̸͒ᴜ̴̀s̸͗ ̸͘ᴛ̴̅ᴀ̸̓ʙ̷͌ᴇ̶͝ᴍ̵̿,

“ᴍ̷͗ᴏ̵͋ʀ̵͌ʙ̴̽ᴏ̷͝,

“ᴍ̶́ᴏ̸̒ʀ̵̇ᴛ̸͌ᴇ̴̀ᴍ̸͊.”

His magic violently kicked through him as he seemed to be reaching the peak of the spell. The other’s voice was gaining in intensity, too, as though he knew it was getting difficult for Junhong to hear him. He briefly wondered what the buzzing sound in his ears could be, or if it was coming from his vibrating brain, and his palms must have caught fire at some point because he couldn’t feel them anymore, if not for a burning pain where they were supposed to be.

“F̴̓ɪ̶̛ᴀ̸̈ᴛ̵̂ ̴̔ʀ̴̌ᴇ̸̅ɴ̸͆ᴀ̵̀s̶̈́ᴄ̸̊ɪ̴̎.”

Junhong re-opened his eyes immediately, yet could see no shaking pot, nor any fire in his palms, nor could he feel his power kicking in him, nor could he hear anything buzzing. Everything was gone, as though he just had a delirium and nothing happened — he was reassured, however, by the pale golden steam escaping from the water, efficiently proving it had been magically altered.

He turned his head slowly towards the feline, face first and gaze following sheepishly a bit later, as though looking for any kind of approval. He was surprised to find him gawking at the pot, to see his eyes wide, his ears drawn back in obvious confusion for a reason he could not quite comprehend. His expression turned deadly serious once he found Junhong’s gaze on him, yet he still said no words and simply stared as though he was looking for something in his eyes.

Junhong was about to panic, overwhelmed by a situation he understood nothing of, but then the creature’s posture finally eased into a more casual one, his tail going back to its unstoppable swing.

“Now, let it rest for forty-five minutes.” He grinned lazily. “And give me a bit of your cream, meatball, I’m in pain.”