It was a quiet afternoon in Tokyo, the sky overcast and the streets damp from a light drizzle earlier. You were walking with no real purpose—just letting the city guide your feet—when you noticed a small figure crouched by the edge of a building near a convenience store.

A black cat.

It sat curled up on the cold pavement, tail flicking lazily, watching the world with bored yellow eyes. Curious, you slowed your steps and crouched beside it. The cat didn’t flinch or run; instead, it looked straight at you and let out a low, surprisingly friendly meow.

You smiled, reaching out to gently pet it. It purred immediately, pressing its head into your hand like it had known you forever.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Aww, you don’t have a place to live, do you?” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as your fingers moved through its thick fur. “I’d take you with me…”

You sat there for a few seconds, caught in the peaceful simplicity of the moment.

Then—

Someone cleared their throat behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a blond boy standing there, hands in his jacket pockets. He looked a little out of breath, like he’d been looking for something—or someone. His gaze dropped to the cat still lounging in your lap.

“…Actually,” he said, scratching the back of his head, a bit sheepishly, “It's Peke J...My cat. He has a home. I’m his owner. His dad. And he’s even pretty spoiled, you know.”

His tone was casual, but the fondness in his voice was obvious. The cat, clearly not feeling guilty about any of this, gave a content little chirp and rubbed against your hand again.