My Childhood Friend Meows Under My Skirt. (GL) - Chapter 3

“Anyway, I just came home like that yesterday! Sure, I was at fault too, but isn’t that just too cruel!? That was definitely something they had been planning to say for a while, waiting for the perfect moment when I would be suffering the most, and I bet they practiced it too. Right now, they’re probably smirking in satisfaction. Don’t you think so?”

The one I was venting to wasn’t family, Sakura-chan, or Kimizu-san; it was Mimi-chan, the calico cat that had come to play in our garden. She might have just stopped by by chance, or perhaps she remembered my scent and whimsically decided to show her face. I had a can of cat food left over from the participation prize at the shopping district’s cosplay contest, so I decided to offer it to her. While she ate, I poured out my grievances.

“…The hardest part was that, in the end, it was spot on. Everything they said was true.”

After I got home, I immediately came down with a fever. I spent the day in bed, waiting for time to pass, and by this evening, I finally felt better. I was extremely hungry and devoured the tofu hamburger for dinner in an instant.

The existence of just one girl had such a significant impact on me, affecting my health. I didn’t know anyone else like that.

Mimi-chan finished the cat food. She looked at me with those adorable eyes, as if urging me for more. I hurried upstairs to my room, grabbed a pack of bonito flakes and a homemade cat toy, and returned to the garden, only to find she had already left.

Kneeling down, I hung my head in despair when something plopped onto my head. Looking up, I saw my mother holding a bento box.

“What’s that?”

“Leftovers from dinner. I made too much, so take it to Maki-chan.”

“Why all of a sudden? She’s probably already finished eating.”

“Well, you’ve been seeing her again lately, right?”

“It takes over ten minutes by bike, and it’s a hassle.”

“Just go and ask for her thoughts on it.”

“…Did you happen to overhear what I was talking about just now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, hurry up,” she urged, handing it to me. The bento box wrapped in cloth was still warm. Just a day and a half had passed, and now I had to see her again. I was just recovering from being sick.

But she was surely still dealing with something abnormal inside her.

It wasn’t a short time that could be easily forgotten, dismissed with “I don’t have the qualifications.”

Alright, then I should just switch gears and go check on her.

If only I could stand up easily like the protagonist of some story and move on to the next scene. Unfortunately, I was just a high school girl with nothing but wasted physical strength and dexterity, content as long as there were cats in my daily life, still searching for my future dreams, filled with vague anxiety, baseless confidence, and just a sprinkle of hope—like a median in some statistics.

The past can’t be changed, but the future is still uncertain. Someone might encourage me with such words. But if I couldn’t even handle the past properly, there’s no guarantee I could manage the future. I think such disclaimers should be written in small print.

“Come on, hurry up.”

“Ow.”

A thermos was plopped onto my head. My brain cells popped and fizzled, and just like that, I became a little dumber. I wondered if it contained tea. It was quite cold. Not only food but drinks too?

“From my sixteen years of raising you, I can say that Ichika’s strong point is being able to act before thinking. And the unfortunate part is that once you start thinking, it usually doesn’t end well.”

“…Isn’t that the opposite order? Shouldn’t you mention the bad parts before the good ones?”

“Don’t complain. This is the last time I’m being nosy.”

“So you were listening to my earlier conversation after all.”

“If you started keeping a cat in the garden because you were heartbroken by your childhood friend, your father would be troubled, right?”

“Heartbroken…?”

Since I apparently don’t end up well when I start thinking, I decided to leave the house while the bento box and thermos were still light in my hands. I wondered how it felt to be encouraged by my parents. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for being energized by it.

I hopped on my bike, loaded with excuses to meet her, and pedaled down the night road. The May evening breeze felt like the best in the year. Collecting and replenishing those small bits of happiness, I headed toward Maki.

Even so, my courage began to deflate. Within five minutes, I was looking for an excuse to take a detour. I thought maybe there would be a cat hiding between the houses or at the corner of an intersection, but today, there were none to be found.

In my search for cats, I arrived in front of the apartment. In the end, I hadn’t found a single one.

Entering the entrance, I hesitated for a moment about whether to press the intercom. I had a spare key, so I could enter without permission.

I pressed the intercom and waited for a response. If there was no answer, I planned to give up and go home. Usually, it wouldn’t be strange for a response to come after a while, but just as I was about to take a step back, I heard the sound of the speaker activating. However, Maki’s voice didn’t come through.

“…Maki?”

No response.

“It’s me.”

After waiting a few more seconds, I finally got a reply.

“Don’t come.”

And then the speaker cut off. The entrance door, of course, remained locked. Maki’s voice echoed in my head. Don’t come. A voice rejecting me. While that was certainly true, something felt off.

It wasn’t a forceful tone that struck my chest; it was a thin, strained voice, as if she were suffering and enduring something. I could easily imagine that she was in pain, and perhaps it wasn’t meant to hurt me, but rather the opposite—

“With that kind of attitude, it just makes me more concerned.”

In the empty entrance, I found myself justifying to no one as I took out my key. I inserted the key into the lock and opened the entrance door.

Even while riding the elevator up, my resolve didn’t waver. I could feel my senses sharper than when I was pedaling toward her. What was this difference?

I thought about ringing the intercom again at the front door, but before I could think of anything unnecessary, I decided to just open it quickly.

Inside was pitch dark. There wasn’t a hint of light from the hallway to the living room.

“Maki?”

There was no response. I wondered if she was really in the room. She might have left while I was about to approach.

I passed through the hallway and turned on the living room light without permission. Suddenly, an unusual sight greeted me.

All the kitchen shelves were open, and dishes were scattered everywhere. The cushions that had been on the sofa were now on the floor near my feet, their insides torn apart. The dining table was cracked, and the television was toppled over, facing the ceiling. Maki was still nowhere to be found.

Calling her name again, I noticed movement from the bedroom behind the sliding door. As I approached, calling out, “Maki,” there was no response.

I placed my fingers on the slightly ajar sliding door and gently opened it.

There, curled up under a blanket on the bed, was Maki. Her feet were sticking out slightly from the blanket. The curtains were open, and the moonlight filled the room sufficiently.

“Maki, why is the living room such a mess…?”

I moved closer.

It was then that I finally noticed the claws extending from her toes and the white and pink fur covering them.

I could feel Maki trembling beneath the blanket.

Instinctively, I grabbed it and pulled it off with force.

“Maki…”

Her face, with cat ears, lifted up, and our eyes met.

The whiskers on her nose twitched. The tail extending from her waist swayed, brushing against the bed sheets. She was wearing the same hoodie as yesterday, but it was torn in several places, looking as if it had aged years in just one day. From the ripped parts, I could see her arms covered in pink-tinged white fur. The arms that wrapped around herself bore no trace of humanity.

“…I-Ichika.”

A voice filled with desperation echoed.

In that moment, the shape of her eyes changed distinctly. Those yellow, murky eyes that were always different. When they locked onto me, her pupils narrowed like the tip of a pencil.

That child, who was no longer human, smiled at me.

She opened her mouth, revealing sharp canine teeth, and said to me,

“Welcome back, Ichika.”