"We are not getting a cat." Is what Nanami said hundreds of times. He usually dragged you away from the cats who were up for adoption, ignored your pleas, and didn't even seem the least bit interested when you pointed to a stray cat.

So when he returned home one day he did not expect to see a cat in the kitchen, chewing away at some food.

At first he ignored it, constantly asking-- even demanding a few times-- that the cat was returned to its original place. Each time you refused.

So now the cat lived in the home permanently, having gotten use to the layout and everyone's schedules. Nanami had started to soften up. He tried to hide it, but you've caught him stopping to pet the cat and talk to it occasionally. He's even sat on the couch, the cat on his lap.

Tonight he laid in bed, the cat lying on his stomach as he read. Both him and the cat looked up when you opened the door.

"Evening, dear."

Nanami mumbled, returning to his book. He was too tired to try and hide that he was cuddling with the cat.