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Spring rains were a temperamental breed. Sometimes they were a gentle warmth, slowly cleansing the earth from the bitter chill left from the last throes of winter. Other times, each raindrop was like a little pin carved from the thinnest sheet of ice possible, pelting anyone and anything unlucky enough to be out with its stinging misery.
Today, unfortunately for Kanji Tatsumi, was one of the days that the skies unleashed that liquid misery.
“Damn, damn, damn…” he cursed with each hurried step. He kept just short of a run—if he went much faster, he’d have to deal with each puddle splashing higher against his legs. His morning was about to suck, as it was. Sitting in class with his slacks completely soaked in freezing rainwater would only make it worse.
Senpai would probably have had another lecture waiting for him, if he had still been in Inaba. Something about the importance of his education, and of being on time for not just class, but for all responsibilities in his life. Kanji’d been doing rather well at improving on that; he’d stopped cutting school and very rarely even skipped P.E. Hell, his grades were even improving.
Though, that last one might have something to do with the study sessions with—
—Not that any of that changed the fact that he was going to be late for class today. He could already hear the bitching from his homeroom teacher.
A soft sound made him stop mid-run, stumbling and splashing in a particularly large puddle. Kanji lifted his umbrella, peering in the direction the sound had come from, but there was only one object even moving among the trees that lined the floodplain.
Had a newspaper page actually sneezed at him?
Kanji walked over to the flittering page. It was wrapped around something against the tree’s trunk. He shifted the umbrella, taking an awkward hold of it in his other hand, the grip unsteady as the handle now shared space with the strap of his school bag. With his freed hand, he lifted the ink-and-water-splotched page.
Glazed yellow eyes surrounded by black fur looked back up at him.
Kanji’s breath caught in his throat.
He held the umbrella over them as he knelt down closer to the rain-soaked kitten. It didn’t move, its only reaction to the tall boy being to sneeze again.
The sound made Kanji’s chest tighten.
He had to get the poor thing out of the rain. He thought quickly. There was a gazebo just a couple dozen meters down the floodplain. If nothing else, it would be dry under there.
Kanji reached towards the kitten with his free hand. The tiny black animal gave no resistance the boy picked it up. He could almost completely encase it in that one hand. It made a soft sound—too weak to really be called a meow—as he pressed it gently but firmly against his chest. Tightening his haphazard grip on his bag and umbrella in his other hand, he started running down the floodplain to the desired shelter.
It was still dry under the gazebo, and even the leak in its roof appeared to have been fixed. Kanji set the kitten down on the table, sitting on the bench to finally get a better look at the poor creature.
The kitten’s coat was entirely black, its pelt completely soaked and matted from the rain and clear neglect; the animal had definitely been on its own for a while. The way its fur clung to its tiny body revealed that it hadn’t eaten well, if at all, for that period of time, either. Its paws looked even larger in comparison to its minute frame than it would have at a healthier weight, and its thin tail drooped lifelessly behind it. It flicked one ear, looking up at Kanji again. Its yellow eyes were dull and cloudy.
“It’s all right, little guy,” Kanji said softly. “First, let’s getcha dried off some, yeah?” He started tearing through his school bag.
The kitten made that weak sound again. Kanji searched faster. He pulled out the white shirt of his track uniform. He’d just washed it, and—conveniently—it still held a fraction of the dryer’s warmth in the cloth.
Kanji placed a hand on the kitten’s head, making sure that it wouldn’t panic or otherwise struggle—the last thing he wanted was to accidentally injure the tiny animal. Confident that the ball of wet, black fur wasn’t going to protest, Kanji wrapped the shirt around it and slowly rubbed the rainwater out of its coat with the warm cloth.
Its dark pelt began to puff out as the tousling gradually did its job. When Kanji’d more or less gotten as much of the rain water out as he could—the sleeveless shirt was now mostly soaked and couldn’t do much more—the kitten more or less resembled a black puffball. Its fur still didn’t quite look healthy—it lacked any sort of sheen—but now, at least, it wasn’t saturated in cold water.
The kitten looked up at Kanji again, a little more light in its eyes. It made a little stronger of a sound, a sort of half-purr, half-meow that Kanji’d never heard a cat make before—not that he had extensive experience caring for them.
Kanji felt his breath catch in his throat again. He gently placed one hand on the kitten’s head, slowly scratching and rubbing behind its ears.
It repeated the sound.
Encouraged, Kanji ran his hand down the tiny cat’s back. The kitten leaned into his touch. He could feel the vibrations shake its frame from even just its weak purring.
Kanji’s chest tightened.
Food, the thought came to him. The little guy’s almost starved to death.
He reached in his school bag and pulled out his bento. Downside to running late was that he had simply gathered up what food he could manage quickly: rice filled one level of the black-and-red lacquerware completely, the second being significantly less full with some tamagoyaki, a few small sausages cut in simple shapes, and a couple of pieces of salmon leftover from last night’s dinner.
It probably wasn’t the best food for a growing cat, but it was certainly better than nothing—and Kanji was too nervous to leave it alone just yet, even to grab cat food from a convenience store. Kanji took a piece of the salmon, tearing a small chunk off and offering it to the kitten.
The small animal hesitated before sniffing at the fish. It looked up at Kanji.
Please. Eat. C’mon, little guy…. Kanji didn’t know what he’d do if the kitten refused to eat something.
Slowly, the kitten reached for the offered food, taking it in its mouth. It chewed the small bite of food for a long moment, before finally swallowing.
Relief washed over Kanji. He tore the remaining fish up into more manageable bites, piling them on the table right in front of the tiny animal. The cat took its time eating, but steadily consumed the offered food. As the pile gradually shrunk, the gentle purr coming from its thin frame grew louder.
It permitted Kanji to pet it lazily as it ate. He couldn’t help but smile.
Don’t even think about it, he tried to tell himself. Ma ain’t ever gonna let me keep a pet, ‘specially a cat. Hair and all that, it’d get over everything.
Not that he took his own warning to heart enough that he wasn’t already running through names in the back of his head.
The kitten’s purring grew louder, until it meowed once—the first clear, solid sound it had made—rubbing its face against his hand.
Don’ even think about if ‘s a girl or guy cat. He continued his self-lecture, despite the melting sensation occurring under his ribcage.
Cats don’t really have a concept of gender, Senpai had told him once, when he’d run into his friend on his way to feed strays, a bag of cat food in his arms. They don’t care if you consider them guys or chicks. As long as they know what sound is meant to mean “me” for them, they don’t care what identity you give them. A cat considers itself a cat; that’s enough for them.
Kanji had liked that. No extra expectations. A cat was a cat. To them, a name was a name. Give them a home, food, warmth, companionship, and they were more than happy.
Kanji gave the cat another scratch behind its ear. It leaned into the touch.
Shit, he remembered. I’m already late. He had to go, loathe as he was to leave the poor kitten alone again. It clearly didn’t have a home: between the lack of collar and how terrifyingly thin it was under that still-puffed fur, he doubted it had ever lived with a human.
But, if he didn’t get moving soon, he was only going to be in worse trouble. While he figured his mother would understand his reasoning, she would still stress that he needed to focus on school. And, of course, his teachers were already going to give him enough lecturing on top of all that.
He looked through his school bag, pulling out one of his new P.E. shoes; his latest growth spurt—while only about two or three centimeters—had also resulted in him going up a shoe size. But, it was going to rain most of the day. Even if they ended up doing much for P.E. today, he could always wear his old shoes for one more day. Or just skip that class—it was pretty much the only one he still did, if rarely.
Kanji stood up from the bench, kneeling near the leg of the gazebo’s table. He put the large shoe against the leg. It wouldn’t be very cozy, but it should be better for the kitten to—
—Kanji had a sudden idea. He reached under his long-sleeved shirt, pulling on the tank top he’d worn under it for a little extra warmth. Skillfully, he managed to pull it off without removing the shirt over it. It wasn’t very thick, but it would make the wide shoe a little more comfortable—and warmer—for the kitten to curl up in. He placed the tank top in it, making a more-or-less passable nest for the tiny animal.
Kanji stood back up. The kitten was sitting on the table, fur much less puffed-out and returning to a normal—if not quite healthy—state. Its eyes were also a little clearer and brighter, as it regarded him with a slight tilt of its head. It meowed once.
Kanji cleared his throat—I can’t keep it, Ma would be so pissed—and picked it back up in a steady grip, with both hands. He knelt back down with it, putting the kitten in the makeshift bed he’d prepared. As expected, the kitten curled right up in the shirt’s cloth, wrapping its tail around its body. Kanji could hear it purring softly as it closed its eyes, burrowing deeper against the shirt.
Kanji made a slight choking sound. The kitten meowed in response, opening its eyes to look at him. He picked up his bento again, pulling out the cut sausages. He placed them in the shoe, right near the kitten. For later. He gave it another pet on the top of the head, before gathering up his things and running down the floodplain towards school again.
His thoughts were with the kitten—its tiny meow, thin frame, affectionate nature, the way it had looked at him—the entire way; each step broke his heart a little more.
…
“Are you all right, Kanji-kun?”
“Huh?” Kanji blinked, last piece of tamagoyaki halfway to his mouth. He’d kept that food for himself—he couldn’t remember if egg would be bad for the kitten, so he might as well have something other than rice, or someone might be concerned.
Of course, he’d forgotten that one of his classmates—when she wasn’t out of town on a case—was too observant to be tricked so easily.
“You have hardly eaten,” Naoto pointed out, “despite your usual appetite. You were also significantly late to class this morning.” She hesitated.
“It’s nothing, Naoto.” Kanji continued on his half-eaten rice.
“Perhaps, though sudden change in behavior such as this, coupled with avoidance of the subject….” She trailed off, apparently deciding that finishing off her own meal was more appropriate than whatever she’d come up with to say at the moment.
“‘M fine, promise,” Kanji said through the last bites of rice.
“Very well.”
Just a few weeks ago, her concern would have left Kanji an incoherent, babbling mess on the assembly room floor where they took their lunch together. To be honest, it still made his heart race and heat rise to his face. Not that she noticed, of course; she was still completely unaware of the cause of his awkwardness around her.
But, with the two of them being placed in the same class for their second-year, and with Rise out of Inaba for the time being for her own job, they’d started spending time together. It was mostly out of default, Kanji told himself. The others in the Team were a year above them, except for Teddie. Naoto had formed a sort of rapport with Chie over the months, but school hardly allowed the two girls to spend much time together.
Kanji was in her year, in her class, and was already her friend. He was easy to justify being around, or so he kept telling himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up: that she might have some other reason for spending so much time—their study sessions often ran later than planned—with him. And only him.
He was tempted to tell her about the kitten. Maybe she could even help him. Help them. But, he knew she’d never take it in herself—understandably, as she had a job on top of school, one that took her out of town a lot. He also recalled her stating that she had no particular fondness for cats, being much more of a dog person.
It might not even still be there when he got back to the floodplain gazebo after school. Maybe it really did belong to someone and had just gotten lost for too long and couldn’t find food on its own.
Panic seized him.
He’d left it alone with food. A tiny, defenseless baby, out in the cold. Where any number of larger, dangerous animals could hurt it over the small cache of food he’d left it.
A terrible image—involving a particularly huge dog—flashed before Kanji’s mind.
He felt sick.
“Kanji-kun?”
“I’m going back to class,” he said stiffly, packing up his empty bento. He slid off of the stage, walking quickly for the door and out of his friend’s sight before she could catch up—and thus learn that he had no such intention.
…
Sneaking through the hole in the school fence was as easy as ever. Once has was past that minor obstacle, there was ultimately no one between him and his destination as he tore down the school zone and floodplain path as fast as he could run. The rain had, fortunately, stopped, reducing the risk—not that he would have cared if it hadn’t. He nearly tripped over himself coming to a stop when he reached the gazebo again.
The shoe was still there. The shirt was still stuffed into it. The sausages were even still there.
And, most importantly, the little black kitten was still curled up in his makeshift bed, sound asleep, safe and unharmed.
Kanji collapsed to his knees with a loud sigh, burying his face in his hands. He made a high-pitched sound—a sort of whine mixed with an incoherent attempt at some curse or another.
He heard a soft meow, quiet but clearer and stronger than earlier that morning. Kanji looked up.
The kitten had lifted his head, tiny yellow eyes—even a tiny bit clearer than when Kanji had left him—blinking at him. He meowed again.
Kanji reached out and pat the top of the kitten’s head, giving it a light scratch behind one ear. The kitten made the sound from earlier, the half-purr, half-meow one.
Kanji felt the trembling ache that had seized his entire body slowly ease off.
The kitten remembered his rescuer. Of course he does, Kanji scolded himself. It was just a couple a’ hours ago. He watched as the kitten picked up one of the sausages, this one cut like an octopus, chewing at it slowly. Poor li’l guy.
The shoe wouldn’t be enough—aside from the fact that Kanji technically needed it back, along with the shirt, the kitten would need something better. Something—and somewhere—safer and warmer, out of the weather a bit more. Somewhere Kanji could keep an easier eye on him, and without his Ma noticing, not yet—or, he added to himself, remembering lunch just now, Naoto.
Kanji waited until the kitten finished eating his own lunch, before carefully picking him up out of the shoe. Shoving his things back into his bag, Kanji held the kitten securely against his chest in one hand and stood up. He walked back down the floodplain with his new—and temporary, he tried to tell himself—companion, towards the Shopping District.
The entire way, Kanji felt the gentle vibration from the kitten against his chest, and willed to keep the burning it brought to his eyes from turning to blurred vision.
…
If Old Lady Shiroku disapproved of the idea of Kanji walking through the store with a very small kitten held firmly, but gently, in one hand, she didn’t say so. She didn’t even scowl or scold him for being truant during school hours. She didn’t lecture him at all, not even as she rung up the small bowl set, the cans of cat food, or the pair of toys. She simply smiled and helped him bag the purchases.
I ain’t adopting him, Kanji insisted to himself. I’m just makin’ him a safer shelter fer right now. Just ‘til I can find someone ta take him. Someone nice, someone who’ll take real good care a’ him.
The words sounded hollow, even in his head.
The kitten hardly made a sound as Kanji—with some minor difficulty—managed to carry everything down and across the street, to the alley near his house, just on the other side of the closed barber shop next door—all without ever once loosening his firm, steady grip on the tiny cat. He simply purred, almost non-stop, occasionally rubbing his head against his rescuer’s chest.
Kanji set down the bag from the Shiroku, before hesitating. He wasn’t exactly eager to leave the kitten alone, even for such a short, quick trip as he had to make, but….
Maybe if I use the side door real quiet, Ma won’t even notice.
Draping his school jacket over himself more, covering the small cat in his hand from view, he walked quickly back home. Once inside the side door, and without so much as a peep from his mother in the storefront, he quietly set his school things down and set off for the closet for the few things he needed. A few boxes, one much larger, one a bit smaller, and one even smaller than that. A couple spares, just in case he messed up. Some towels. One of his old shirts. A stuffed animal—some sort of dinosaur—he’d bought as a kid to study how the seams went. Using the largest box to carry everything under his free arm, he awkwardly managed to get back out of the house without making too much noise—stopping at the kitchen to grab a bottle of water—all without ever losing his hold of the kitten.
His luck continued to hold, as he managed to walk back to the alley, not only without dropping anything, but without running into anyone—especially cops who would ask why he wasn’t in school right now. Once there, he set nearly everything down at once, save his most precious cargo. Kanji set one of the smallest boxes aside, tossing a couple of towels in it before slowly and delicately lowering the kitten into it with them.
“Stay there, little guy,” he said in a soft voice.
The kitten meowed once, before curling and burrowing into the layers of cloth beneath him.
Confident that the kitten wasn’t going to run or otherwise get hurt while his back was turned, Kanji set himself to work setting up a more hospitable shelter—it just had to last until he found the kitten a good home, he told himself. Maybe someone who’d take him as an indoor pet, so the poor thing would never be caught in the rain ever again.
He set the largest box on its side; it was dark plastic, to better shield against the rain, and both deep and wide enough to provide ample space while still being easy enough to conceal in the side alley. The next smallest box, this one cardboard, was put under the largest one’s cover, lined with one of the towels and putting the smallest box—this one using both a couple of the old towels as well as his old shirt to make a nest—in one back corner and the bowls in the other. He poured some of the water into one bowl, and opened a can of the cat food to put some of it in the other. He’d made sure to buy some specially labeled for kittens—the poor thing needed every bit of help he could to gain some weight.
“Mrrrow?” Kanji heard the kitten move behind him. He glanced back at him.
The kitten was trying to pull itself up over the edge of his temporary box, head tiled slightly and nose wiggling in clear curiosity.
Kanji smiled, before lifting him up in one hand and placing him in the new shelter, just in front of the bowls. The kitten sniffed briefly at the food before taking a careful bite. It apparently passed its test, and he quickly attacked the rest of the small amount Kanji had put in the bowl. He hadn’t put in a lot of the food; he’d fed the kitten a couple of times already, and he didn’t want to make him sick by feeding him too much too fast—he remembered reading that starving people would sometimes make themselves worse, or even die, by eating too much when they had access to food again. The kitten seemed to know his limits, however, leaving the smallest bite behind as he turned to the bowl of water and began to drink just as gratefully.
While the kitten was occupied, Kanji placed the pair of toys he’d bought in the main box nearby him: a small rubber ball with holes for a treat and a long feather attached to one section, and a similarly minute toy mouse. Kanji put the stuffed dinosaur he’d brought from home in one side of the bed he’d made for the kitten. If nothing else, maybe it would ease Kanji’s conscience on the fact that he wouldn’t be able to be with the tiny animal through the night.
Thirst quenched for the moment, the kitten turned to sniff at the toys, batting at the ball a couple of times before it rolled several centimeters away. It leaned backwards, batting at the air multiple times, before leaping at and landing on the ball with its front paws.
Kanji laughed. The kitten sharply turned to look at him. He meowed once, lashing his tail back and forth.
“Nah, I ain’t makin’ fun a’ ya.” Kanji couldn’t stop smiling, regardless. He reached out with one hand to pet the cat. The small beast leaned into the touch, arching his back against each time the hand ran down it, his entire body vibrating from the force of his tiny purring.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kanji knew that he should really be at school. But….
But, he knew what it felt like to be alone, with no one to help you or to understand. Or, to at least feel like that was the case. He couldn’t just leave and let an innocent animal—a baby, really—feel that same way. Not when he had the power to fix it, to make it right. Not when it was this easy.
“Kojirou.” Kanji’d said the name before he knew what he was doing. The kitten looked up at him, blinking those yellow eyes—they were still getting brighter—for a few long moments.
“Prrrow.” He walked over to the side of his shelter closest to his rescuer, curling up against it, and continued to purr as Kanji sat there petting him.
…
Within the next day, Kanji had already set up a schedule. He’d wake up early, stopping to check on Kojirou, to give him more food and some attention, before heading off to school. He’d stop by the alley again on his way home, spending more time to play with the gradually improving kitten. Once, he’d brought one of his spare combs and worked through Kojirou’s coat. It was starting to look much better, slowly gaining a slight sheen in the sun. He’d open the plastic box he left nearby to safely store the cans of food, and Kojirou would practically dance with anticipation, making soft chattering sounds Kanji hadn’t known that a cat could even make. After Kojirou ate—his tiny frame seemed to be filling out more with each visit—Kanji would sit near the shelter, and talk to the cat. Kojirou would sit or lie down and listen, watching Kanji intensely and purring in such a low pitch that the boy could barely hear. He grew more energetic with each visit, too, completely enamored with the toys Kanji had bought him, even tackling the stuffed dino a few times, though he was unable to knock it over with the side of the box in the way.
Kanji would manage to sneak out one more time, just before bed, to make sure that Kojirou got a tiny bit more food to get him through until morning and that his tiny black body was curled up safe in his bed, against the dinosaur to protect him from the solitude of the night. It broke his heart to leave him each time, but he had to do what he had to do.
Within three days, he was sneaking out at lunch to tear halfway across town to check on the tiny kitten, just long enough to give him a gentle scratch behind an ear and a few kind words. Kojirou would always meow a soft goodbye as Kanji sped away to make it back to class in time.
Naoto had noticed, of course. She’d had trouble even getting his attention, let alone holding it.
He wanted to tell her, but. But. She wasn’t a cat person, and she was too busy to help by taking the kitten in, anyway. She would probably lecture him about it, too. Your mother would never approve, Kanji-kun and You’re only setting yourself up for heartbreak or even It’s cruel to let an animal get attached to you when you know you can’t keep it, Kanji-kun.
Either way, even he could tell she was getting frustrated with him.
“Kanji-kun!” Her bitter voice snapped him back to the present.
“Huh?” He blinked, turning from his shoe locker to face her. “Wha’s up?”
“I asked if you would like to work on our assignments for the night after classes.”
Kanji didn’t respond right away, blinking at her as he tried to digest her words.
After school?
“At my apartment?”
Her…her what? The heat that spread across his face was instantly cooled when he realized—
—That was halfway across town from the shop, the alley, near the outskirts.
“Uh,” Kanji found his voice. “I, uh, can’t. Gotta do stuff at home t’night. M-maybe tomorrow?” He cleared his throat. “I-I can make som’thing.”
Naoto sighed, frowning at him for a long moment. She walked stiffly away without another word.
If Kojirou was still getting healthier on Monday morning, Kanji decided, he’d let Naoto know about the kitten. Maybe she’d help him without a lecture after all. Maybe she’d even….
Kanji took a deep breath, closing his locker.
If nothing else, maybe she wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. Maybe she’d understand.
…
Kanji’d spent all day Sunday with Kojirou, even bringing his textbooks with him so he could attempt to do some of his homework while the little kitten took a short nap next to him in the sun. His pelt glistened softly in the warm light, evidence that the care and love Kanji was giving him was really helping. He wasn’t quite so thin anymore, either; that was the thing about babies, if you gave them enough food they’d grow faster than spring weeds.
At one point, the little cat managed to summon the strength to pull the stuffed dinosaur out of his nest, falling backwards from momentum after his success. He leapt up, arching his back and hissing his surprise and displeasure at the toy as if it had orchestrated his tumble intentionally.
Kanji held back a chuckle.
Kojirou quickly decided that tossing the toy mouse about the alley was a better use of his energy. He nearly twisted his tiny body in two when it had landed in Kanji’s lap and the boy responded by tossing the toy down a short way. Kanji had never thought that a cat would enjoy fetch, like a dog, but Kojirou practically leapt out of his pelt with joy each time. He would toss the toy around a couple of times, sometimes, before bringing it back to him for more. A couple of times he brought him the ball instead. The kitten’s eyes widened when the tiny ball bounced back off of the alley wall, wiggling his body once before leaping at it as it rebounded by him.
Kanji’s breath caught in his throat again.
After dinner, Kojirou climbed into the boy’s lap, curling against the bend of his crossed legs. The kitten looked up at him with one glistening yellow eye, his entire body vibrating against Kanji’s as his purring filled the alley.
Ta hell wi’ it, Kanji decided, slowly petting the cat’s side as the sun set behind the side of the building in front of him. Maybe Ma’ll agree ta just one night.
As if reading his thoughts, Kojirou looked up at him. He sat up for a moment, before the kitten reached up with both paws, sinking his claws into Kanji’s shirt as high as he could reach, still purring louder than any point before. Kanji had a feeling that the warmth in his chest wasn’t solely coming directly from the tiny body pressed against his.
His eyes started burning again.
Kanji picked up the kitten with both hands, holding him against his chest.
There was no way he could leave the poor thing alone for another night.
…
As it turned out, his mother wasn’t home. She’d left a note—she had to go into Okina to deliver a rather large order and decided she might as well take the night and pick up some special dyes.
Back in the morning, she’d wrote.
He’d wait for her to come back before heading to school. Come clean. Maybe, if she saw how well the kitten looked, how much he’d improved in just a week, she’d….
Maybe. It wasn’t very likely, but.
But, little Kojirou was worth the chance.
He had stared, eyes wide, as Kanji set up his futon for the night. When Kanji had laid out the blankets, the kitten had nearly vibrated from his obvious excitement, before leaping straight up and bounding over the bedding, chasing some imaginary forces.
Kanji laughed, causing Kojirou to turn and look at him. The kitten gave him a long meow. He batted playfully at the boy’s hand, as Kanji gently waved him aside so he could lie down. After a long moment, the cat seemed to understand what Kanji wanted—the second-year realized that the poor thing had probably never witnessed a human sleep, let alone his human—and crawled over his body to curl up on the pillow against his neck.
Kanji stared up at the ceiling, realizing that he’d forgotten to turn off his lamp, and that he really couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Not with the still-tiny kitten curled up against him, the purring softening but not quite stopping as Kojirou slowly slipped into sleep.
Everything would work out, he decided right there. He would do whatever it took.
But, he promised the cat, just before he joined him in slumber, that he’d never have to be alone, ever again.
…
Kanji woke up instantly.
He knew something was wrong.
His neck was cold.
Kojirou was gone. Where’d the little guy go? Kanji sat up, looking around.
Ah, there he was, Kanji saw the small, black form at the foot of the futon. There was a mouse just in front of his little head.
Kojirou must have caught it and brought it to him, before the poor little runt had… passed out….
Something was wrong.
Kanji quickly moved over to the kitten’s still form.
No, this didn’t make sense. It… it couldn’t be….
What had he done wrong?
He’d been better. Healthier. Happy. His pelt had been clean and shiny, his eyes no longer clouded at all. His little body had even gained weight, no longer a fur bag of bones. He’d been active, affectionate.
He was getting better!
Why? What had he done wrong—This didn’t make sense!
Kanji gingerly placed a hand on the kitten’s back. He didn’t move, his body still warm.
Kanji bowed his head, his throat closing as he clenched his burning eyes shut.
I’m so sorry.
…
Naoto Shirogane was pissed.
She had sat at her desk rigidly all day, refusing to even leave it to take her lunch in her usual spot. Now, she was walking at a firm pace down the street, towards the Shopping District.
She’d had about enough. First Kanji was inattentive all day, cutting lunch and barely making it back—after skipping out on the entire afternoon last Monday—but now he was missing an entire day of school?
And, he’d completely blown her off. Sure, he’d been awkward at first when she’d offered to work on homework together. Alone. So had she. But.
But that had been starting to ease off. He’d slowly started to become more comfortable. They’d started to become more comfortable.
What the hell changed so suddenly?
Naoto was tempted to go investigate—maybe if he wouldn’t tell her what was going on, his mother would—and was halfway to his house before she could convince herself otherwise. Before she reached the southern end of the Shopping District, however, she stopped and took a deep breath.
What exactly do I intend to do? Naoto asked herself. Force him to speak, to explain himself? He has every right to act as he sees fit; it’s no business of mine if he suddenly decides to return to his old, truant ways.
So, why was she still so mad?
And worried?
She exhaled again, slowly. Naoto took out her cell phone, looking at it.
Maybe I should—
The phone suddenly started ringing. Naoto answered it before she could even read the name on the screen.
“Kanji-kun?” She bit down on her lip instantly.
“No,” Yukiko’s voice came from the other end. “It’s Yukiko. I am at Kanji-kun’s, though.”
“O-oh?” Why would Yukiko be at Kanji’s—
—Naoto cut the thought off. Of course.
“I had a delivery to pick up for the inn, some—oh? Oh, yes. Never mind.” She seemed to be talking to someone else, as well. “It’s Kanji-kun, though. He… wasn’t at school today.”
“Yes,” Naoto’s voice became taut again. “I was quite aware of that fact.” She sat right next to him, after all. She was usually quite confused—if perhaps intrigued, just a little, though unsure why—as to why he was typically nervous and jumpy all day, when he’d finally opened up to her and relaxed a bit everywhere else.
“Y-you see, Naoto-kun….” Yukiko trailed off.
“Lemme talk to her,” a familiar voice was barely audible. Shuffling, and then the voice grew louder and more coherent. “Naoto?”
Chie-senpai. “Yes.”
“Kanji-kun’s locked himself in his room all day. He won’t come out.”
Naoto’s jaw unclenched, her expression softening.
“Why?” What was wrong?
She should have started following him the moment he started acting funny, followed him home. As uncomfortable and—and wrong—as that was, maybe she could have found out what was bothering him in time to help, before it’d escalated like this.
“Naoto.” Chie sighed. “C-can you come over? To Kanji’s, I mean? Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
He has hardly been doing such at all, as of late, Naoto thought bitterly. And instantly felt the guilt build up in the back of her throat.
“S-sure,” she said. “I… I was… I was already on my way,” she admitted softly.
“You…?” Chie trailed off. “You were.” There was the slightest hint of a laugh in her words. What was funny about her concern over her friend?
Well, irritated concern, in any case.
“I’ll be there shortly,” Naoto said, before hanging up. She started down the street again, twice as fast.
What the hell is wrong?
When she walked through the front door, Kanji’s mother was seated in her usual spot in the storefront. She gave Naoto a slight, tired—and sad?—smile, choosing not to stand to greet her son’s friend today.
“Hello, Naoto-kun,” she said quietly. “I presume you are here to…?” She trailed off.
“Hello, Tatsumi-san. Yukiko-senpai called me a few minutes ago,” Naoto said. “She said that Kanji-kun has… locked himself in his room all day?”
His mother’s sad smile slowly turned to a frown.
“Yes.” She looked away. “To be honest, I am at a loss. Nothing I, nor the girls, have said have even gotten a response from him since this morning. Except….” She sighed.
Naoto felt her chest tighten.
“What happened?”
“When I came home from a delivery this morning… he was… quite distraught.” She pushed a small, nearby shoebox along the raised floor towards the young detective. “If I had known… perhaps I could have…. He tried to handle everything on his own.”
Naoto looked at her. Handle what? She looked at the box. A soft voice in the back of her skull told her that she didn’t want to open it, but….
She closed the lid almost instantly after peering inside.
Oh, Kanji-kun.
It suddenly made complete sense. The running back and forth across town. The refusal to discuss it with anyone. His declination of any and all invitations for the past week.
The logic in her mind started working without conscious prompting. The kitten had been very small, regardless of weight, possibly a runt. It may have been abandoned by its mother, who likely had sensed some sort of disease or birth defect. Whatever it was, it was probably internal, and possibly too late to truly save, even with medical attention. Naoto knew Kanji, knew how kind and gentle he really was, especially towards children and animals; there was no doubt in her mind that he’d cared for it—for a week, on his own, in secret—as best as he possibly could. And had loved it fiercely and immediately.
Oh, Kanji-kun. I wish you had told me what you had been doing. She could have helped him, gotten the kitten to a vet. Maybe….
But, that wouldn’t bring it back now.
“I will go and see if I am able to….” Naoto trailed off. She shrugged once.
His mother nodded once.
Naoto set her bag down before slipping off her shoes and walking past Tatsumi-san and into the house.
As expected, Chie and Yukiko were still upstairs, in front of his closed—and presumably locked—bedroom door.
“Chie-senpai, Yukiko-senpai,” Naoto said softly.
They turned to look at her.
“Naoto-kun,” Yukiko said. “Do you…? Did…?”
Naoto looked down for a moment, before nodding.
Chie’s voice was much more strained than on the phone. “We were finally able to get him to talk… a little… just now… about… to tell us… about…”
“Kanji-kun?” Yukiko spoke up, facing the door. “Naoto-kun’s here. She’s worried, too.” She looked at the second year. Naoto nodded again, quicker than before. “Please, come out Kanji-kun. Let us help you.”
Naoto heard shuffling behind the door, but no sound of his voice. She walked up to it, stopping with her nose nearly pressed against the wood.
“K-Kanji-kun?” She found her voice suddenly raw. She wasn’t sure what to say. Comforting was never her strong suit. She was far too clinical, too socially blunt, to be much good at such things. Not yet, at least.
Her mere presence appeared to be a start, however. The shuffling sounds increased, and the girls all held their breath as the door unlocked audibly.
Slowly, it opened, just enough to allow them to see Kanji—still in his pajamas, hair scruffed in every direction, cheeks still stained and eyes bloodshot—though his gaze was directed downward, not at them.
“Kanji-kun,” Naoto managed to steady her voice a little. “I… I know. I know why you haven’t been… why you weren’t….” Insensitive. Why was she always so insensitive?
He grunted.
“I know that you are… deeply upset. I understand you are… likely confused and… hurt. I know you were likely very… attached.” She hesitated. “However, this will not help your situation nor will it bring… bring it back.”
Kanji looked up at her, his eyes suddenly burning.
“Is that what they tell you?” His voice was ragged and raw, cracking a little on the last word.
For a brief moment, his eyes appeared yellow and his words echoed in her mind, spoken by a familiar, electronic voice. Her breath hitched.
“Well,” she snapped, “forgive me for attempting to console you in the only manner I know how!”
“Nao—!”
“Yeah?” Kanji cut off their senpai. “Well, who asked ya?”
“Kanji!”
“I was unaware I needed your permission to feel sympathetic to your pains!” Naoto didn’t hear Chie, either, her own voice rising in pitch slightly.
“Naoto-kun.”
“Maybe I don’ deserve yer sympathy!” Kanji snapped back. “Just yer pity! Right? I’m just big, dumb Kanji, breaking everything, who can’t even take care ‘f a tiny, li’l animal right!”
Naoto’s anger snapped to pained understanding.
“Kanji-kun!” Yukiko shouted, either her voice or Kanji’s sudden reaction to it causing the door to shake. “How dare you! You know that none of that is true! We’ve been worried sick about you! Especially Naoto-kun, who probably feels guilty that she didn’t figure it out in time to help.”
Thank you, Yukiko-senpai, for driving that particular point home, Naoto thought with the fleeting remains of her bitterness.
“And, Naoto-kun,” Yukiko continued, “you know better by now than to lose your temper like that.” Naoto looked at the floor but didn’t respond. “Apologize to each other.”
“‘M sorry.” Kanji looked away. “I know ya…. I’m sorry.”
“I am also sorry to have snapped at you,” Naoto said. She looked up at him. “I apologize for my tactlessness. And… I am sorry that… that I couldn’t help sooner.”
He faced her for a moment, eyes glistening, and then looked back down at the floor.
“Ain’t yer fault.”
“Nor is it yours, Kanji-kun,” Naoto said.
“How can ya be so sure?” Kanji asked. “I mean, I….”
“Because I know you, Kanji-kun. I know that any animal that found itself in your care would be granted the utmost care and affection, to the fullest extent of your abilities.” She searched for the right words. “I know that… there would be… no animal happier… or more loved. Sometimes… there’s just only so much you—or anyone—can do.” Her frown deepened. He wasn’t reacting. Was this working? Or, was she making it worse? She tried to remember. “I know that… such a small, scared animal would have found peace, just by no longer being alone, by being… loved.” She sighed. “I know that… that it—that he did not blame you. Does not blame you. I’m… I am certain he loved you just as much as you did him. I am… confident that he was happy.”
Kanji opened the door the rest of the way, looking at her for a long moment, before shocking all three girls—and possibly himself—by stepping forward, leaning down, and burying his face in Naoto’s shoulder. The awkwardness of their height different was immediately forgotten when he began to tremble slightly, in a failed attempt to hide his silent grief.
Naoto looked sharply at the others. What was she supposed to do? This wasn’t like Kanji—even more than before—and she had absolutely zero experience or knowledge on how to handle this type of situation. But, Chie and Yukiko’s faces were unreadable, simply looking at her with almost-blank looks. She glanced down at the back of Kanji’s head, then back at them, mouthing a single word.
Help.
Chie and Yukiko smiled, the latter nodding once, but neither said anything.
Naoto looked back at Kanji’s bent form against her. Gingerly, timidly, she raised one hand, bringing it to rest against his back, just below his neck. Then, just as slowly, she brought her other, shaking hand to the top of his head. Following some instinct she didn’t quite understand, she intertwined her trembling fingers in his bleached, haphazard hair.
They all stood there in silence for a long time, Naoto awkwardly holding Kanji as he cried into her shoulder.
…
“Yer sure we won’t get in trouble fer this?” Kanji asked for the umpteenth time.
Naoto stood up, brushing the dirt and weeds off of her pants. She gave a short chuckle.
“Do you truly believe that a detective would suggest something that would be against the law?” She looked at him.
Kanji scratched at the back of his neck. Most cops? No. Naoto?
She’d suggested illegal stuff before. Really illegal.
But, he knew that she wouldn’t want to put him through any more trouble, especially right now.
Kanji gave her a small smile, before looking at the mound of freshly turned earth in front of him.
“Nah.”
He looked up, at the fence a few meters up the hill.
He liked this place. A lot. It was high above the town, and peaceful. Naoto liked this hill, too. The small view of the town ironically made the viewer look small instead.
It was the only place Kanji could think to bury Kojirou. His backyard would be… too close. Here, he could visit if he wanted, out of the way of others, and without as much pain.
Kojirou wouldn’t want his human to hurt every time he thought of him.
Naoto had helped him dig and to bury the box. She’d helped Kanji, had wrapped the kitten’s tiny body in a towel and the shirt he’d slept with. She’d placed both of the toys in the box, too. She’d said that he didn’t need to do that, that he needed to remember him as alive, not….
Kanji cleared his throat.
He’d decided to keep the stuffed dinosaur, though. It was sitting on his bed back home. It needed a wash soon, but for now….
He’d had Naoto place one more thing in the box, too. A small square of knitted yarn, one he’d quickly sewn a heart into. He wished he could have put more time in it, but the small cat needed to be put to rest.
Kanji needed to put him to rest.
Naoto walked over to him. She stood next to him, not looking at him, her hand close enough to his that he could feel the warmth radiating from it. He knew she wouldn’t take his hand in hers—that odd moment from before, the brief vulnerability, the sudden familiarity—was long passed. It was a fluke, he told himself, not something to expect from her again. Naoto wasn’t exactly cuddly, her affectionate side—if one could really call it that—being much more subtle.
“Would… would you like to… come over… to my apartment? I can make some hot chocolate.” Naoto’s voice was barely audible. “You… you can talk. Or, you can… not, if you’d like. What… whatever you would prefer.”
Kanji didn’t respond right away, kneeling down to place one hand on the freshly-buried grave. He didn’t think a single coherent thought—they wouldn’t have been enough to hold the emotions that burned in his chest right now. His eyes stung a little, but he knew he wouldn’t cry. Not again, not here.
“Yeah,” he eventually breathed, standing up again. “O-okay.”
Without another word, without looking at each other, they slowly walked back down the hill, side by side. A soft wind followed them, bringing a little more warmth than it had brought earlier than morning.