As the night deepened. The fire had burned down to a low, lazy glow, and the air still smelled like roasted pork, wood smoke, and a touch of exhaustion, well literally my exhaustion.
Tweety sat on his usual perch by the fire, feathers puffed proudly, looking like someone who already knew how this was going to turn out.
"I guarantee," he said, voice smooth and confident, "he'll love your cooking, John. No creature can resist your cooking."
I sighed, cutting off a small slice from the leftover roast.
"You say that every time."
"And am I ever wrong?" Tweety replied, tilting his head.
I looked at the little white cat still crouched a few feet away. He'd been staring at the food since he arrived, pretending he wasn't interested, but his tail kept twitching every time the wind carried the scent toward him.
"Alright, you win," I said, placing the plate in front of the cat. "Here, try it."
The cat sniffed it once, hesitated… and took a bite.
For a moment, nothing happened. He just chewed silently, eyes unfocused.
Then-
"...What… is this?" he whispered.
His voice trembled. His little paws shook.
"It's warm… it's soft… it doesn't taste like iron or ash… there's… sweetness?"
Before I could react, his eyes grew glassy. A tear rolled down his tiny face, glittering in the firelight.
"Wait- are you crying!?" I said, completely thrown off.
He took another bite, slower this time, and let out a small sound that was halfway between a sob and a purr.
"I never knew food could taste like this," he murmured. "All my life, I've eaten nothing but raw meat. It's always cold, bitter and tastes like piss. But this… this is alive. The flavour is speaking to me."
Tweety folded his wings neatly, clearly pleased with himself.
"I told you."
And then suddenly the ground trembled.
"Uh-oh," I muttered.
Light flared around the cat, cold, shimmering, silver-white. His body began to stretch and grow. His fur lengthened, and his stripes glowing faintly blue. I stumbled back as the small kitten suddenly expanded into something out of a myth: a massive white tiger, fur like fresh snow, eyes like two frozen stars.
I craned my neck upward.
"…Yep. I knew it. Should've seen this coming."
The tiger lowered his head until his muzzle was level with me and I felt a frost dance from his breath.
"John Avery," he rumbled, his voice deep enough to vibrate in my ribs. "Your food has stirred something long dormant in me."
"Uh-huh," I said cautiously. "Glad you liked dinner."
"Liked?" he said, eyes blazing. "No. It was a revelation! You have shown me warmth I have not felt in centuries. Therefore, I have decided." He raised a massive paw like he was making a declaration. "I will form a familiar bond with you!"
"…What?"
"From this night on, I shall serve you. Protect you. Hunt for you. Carry you across mountains if I must!"
Tweety nodded, completely serious.
"A wise choice. Fire and frost under one cook."
"Hold on!" I said quickly, hands raised. "Time out! You can't just, I already have one divine bird who eats like a king, and now a snow tiger who's basically a meat refrigerator!? No way! I'd spend my whole life cooking!"
The tiger blinked, his tail flicking.
"That sounds wonderful."
"It's not!" I said. "Do you even realize how much food you'll need? I'd have to roast entire forests just to feed you both!"
He looked genuinely confused.
"But I can protect you. Keep you warm in blizzards. Freeze your enemies. I can even cool your drinks."
Tweety tilted his head.
"That is convenient, John. Cold drinks are rare here."
"Don't side with him!" I groaned.
The tiger's gaze softened a little. He bowed his massive head.
"Please, John Avery. Let me repay the kindness of your meal. I promise I will keep you safe on every journey."
I looked between them: a glowing phoenix and a snow tiger, both waiting for my answer.
Tweety's feathers shimmered warmly. The tiger's breath frosted the air in calm white spirals.
I sighed. "You know what? Fine. But only if you promise not to scare the locals or eat all my ingredients. And always bring me fresh meat."
"Agreed," the tiger said immediately.
Tweety gave a pleased hum.
"Welcome to the gang."
"Great," I muttered, staring at my now-half-frozen campfire. "I came to another world to cook… not to start a divine beast buffet."
The fire had gone quiet, the air crisp and cold. The giant white tiger crouched in front of me, fur shimmering under the moonlight. He looked majestic, proud, noble… and way too big for my campsite.
"John Avery," he said, voice rumbling like distant thunder, "if we are to travel together, then give me a name."
I blinked. "A name?"
"Yes. One given by my master."
Master? Right. No pressure or anything. It's just a god-tier tiger asking me to invent something worthy of legend.
"Okay, let's see…" I rubbed my chin, pretending to think deeply while my brain screamed panic noises.
Finally, I blurted, "How about… Pussycat?"
The tiger stared at me. Hard.
A muscle twitched near his eye.
"...What?"
"Pussycat!" I said quickly. "You know, it's cute, short, and friendly. It's easy to remember."
His fur actually bristled.
"That name makes my fur crawl. It carries a… strange vibes."
"Goosebumps?" I offered. "Means it's working!"
"Another name," he said firmly, tail swishing.
I sighed.
"Man, everyone's so picky in this world. It's just a name!"
"Another," he repeated, louder this time.
Tweety snickered quietly beside me.
"You do have a talent for offending mythical creatures."
I shot him a look.
"That's not helping."
The tiger leaned closer. His eyes were glowing faintly blue. Okay, fine. I wasn't dying over a nickname.
"Alright, alright," I said, rubbing my temples.
"How about… Shiro?"
The tiger blinked.
"Shiro…"
He rolled the name slowly on his tongue, and for a second, the wind around us stilled.
Then he smiled, a real, honest-to-god smile and nodded.
"Yes. That suits me."
Before I could react, he pressed his nose gently against my chest.
A sudden chill shot through me like plunging into icy water, sharp but not painful. Blue light flared between us, then faded.
"The bond is complete," Shiro said quietly. "Our souls are linked."
I rubbed my chest.
"Great. That felt like swallowing a snowstorm."
Tweety nodded approvingly.
"A fine name. And now we are three."
"Three troublemakers," I muttered.
Shiro, who, five minutes ago, could've flattened a castle, let out a content sigh and began to shrink again. His huge body shimmered, collapsing into a small white kitten once more.
He yawned, stretched, and without warning, leapt straight into my shoulder bag, the second-hand one I'd bought in town for holding spices.
"Hey! That's not a bed!"
He ignored me completely, curling up inside with a small purr. Within seconds, he was asleep.
I stared at the moving lump in my bag, then at Tweety. Tweety just looked pleased.
"Efficient use of space," he said.
I sighed, poking the bag lightly. "I can't believe my storage bag just became divine real estate."
The fire popped, sparks dancing into the night. Somewhere in the bag, Shiro purred louder, already dreaming.
"Great," I muttered. "Now I've got a phoenix with an appetite, a tiger who just wanted to be adopted. At this rate, I'm gonna need a grocery god."
Tweety tilted his head.
"Would you like me to pray for one?"
"…Don't you dare."