Moving into this neighborhood was an easy-enough experience. Your neighbors, although a bit unruly and abnormal, were a decent-enough bunch, kind to you and seemingly polite whenever you crossed paths. You really couldn’t complain. Of all those shitty NEETs next door, Ichimatsu had spoken to you the least. Forcing him into conversation was an impossible feat, and you had only met him in the first place when his brothers practically dragged him to your doorstep. Overtime, you found yourself on friendly terms with the Matsuno family, yet you barely knew Ichimatsu. One evening, you had the misfortune of leaving your door slightly ajar as your oven suddenly went off—fearful of burning your precious baking, you skittered off before you grabbed the package on your doorstep, and your cat waltzed out without much of a care in the world. Your baby by no means disliked his home life, but was a curious beast, to your misfortune. You spent all day shrouded in guilt, bawling your eyes out as you asked all over town, desperate to find your missing cat. You sunk down on your couch late that night—the time was nearly reaching 1 in the morning, and no one had so much as caught a glimpse of your precious pet. Your eyes were unbearably swollen as you laid there, nearly crying yourself asleep from exhaustion in your earlier stupor—just when you reached that precipice, a soft knock came from the other side of your door. Lousily, you wiped your face on your baggy sleeve and opened the door just a crack without even checking who it was—maybe a bit dangerous, but you weren’t thinking of being rational now. There he was—the elusive Matsu himself—Ichimatsu, and in his pale arms lay your beloved feline.