Five nights had passed since Kaito Matsumoto began his challenge. Each evening, he sat outside Himari's room, talking endlessly, filling the silence with stories about his life, his childhood, his travels, his friends. It had become a strange routine, one that neither of them had expected.
Himari still didn't respond, still didn't open the door. She simply listened. And, somehow, it seemed enough. He spoke as though he didn't mind the silence on the other side of the door, as though he knew she was there, even without her words.
On the fifth night, Kaito arrived with a small bundle in his arms. As he set it gently down beside him on the wooden floor, he glanced up at the door, half expecting Himari to peek through. But there was no movement. Only silence.
"Tonight's different," he said, as though to no one in particular. "I've got company."
He lifted the bundle, revealing a small, scruffy cat with black-and-white fur and bright yellow eyes. The cat mewed softly and curled up in his lap, content to be there.
"You see, I was never much of a cat person," Kaito continued, scratching the cat's ears gently. "But this one... she found me. And I didn't know what to do. She followed me home one night, hungry, so I fed her. And then she wouldn't leave. No matter what I did, she stuck around." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Kind of like me, I guess."
The cat purred, and Kaito chuckled softly. "She's a stubborn one. Always demands attention when she's hungry, but then won't let anyone pet her for hours afterward."
Himari's ears perked up at the mention of the cat. Her heart fluttered. Cats. She loved cats. In a world where everything felt out of place, where she couldn't even make sense of herself, the presence of a cat always brought a strange sense of calm. The soft purring, the gentle eyes that seemed to understand without needing to say a word—cats had always been her comfort.
She swallowed, leaning closer to the door. A cat… she thought, almost dreamlike. She didn't know why, but the idea of Kaito having one made her feel oddly connected to him. She hadn't heard him mention a pet before, not in the stories, not in the games he spoke of. Yet now, here was this small creature, a tiny life he was responsible for.
For a moment, her thoughts wandered back to her childhood, to the kittens she had found once during a summer in her grandmother's garden. They had been so tiny, so fragile. She had taken care of them for weeks, and in that brief period, her world had been much simpler.
"I didn't really want to keep her," Kaito's voice broke through her reverie, as though he were continuing the story just for her. "But she wouldn't leave. And then one day, I woke up, and there she was, curled up on my bed, looking at me as if to say, This is home now."
Himari closed her eyes, the image of the cat so vividly alive in her mind. It felt familiar. She had heard those words before. Maybe not in the exact same way, but in the way people sometimes spoke when they found something they couldn't explain, something that just belonged.
"There's something about animals, you know?" Kaito continued, unaware of the effect his words were having. "They don't ask anything of you except to be fed, and in return, they give you companionship. You never feel like you owe them anything, but somehow, they become everything. It's simple. It just works."
Himari's chest tightened. She didn't respond, but her heart echoed with the truth of what he said. Maybe that's what I need. Maybe that's what's missing in my life... something simple, something that just works.
The cat purred again, shifting in Kaito's lap, and he smiled down at it. "She's got this thing about always being on the move. Can't sit still for more than ten minutes at a time. That's something else I admire about her, I think. The way she doesn't care what anyone thinks. She just does what feels right."
Himari closed her eyes, feeling a strange sense of connection to this cat. She doesn't care what anyone thinks. She just does what feels right.
For a long time, Himari had lived her life according to what others expected. Her mother, her father, her friends—everyone had a version of her that didn't match who she really was. But this cat... this cat didn't care about anything. She didn't care if she was wanted or not. She just existed.
"I'm starting to wonder if she's actually training me more than I'm training her," Kaito said with a light laugh. "She's taught me patience, that's for sure. Though I think she's still the boss in this arrangement."
Himari smiled faintly. I wonder if she'd like me… The thought caught her off guard. She wasn't sure why it mattered, but somehow it did. She wished, just for a moment, that she could be that free, that independent. To just be, without wondering if she was enough or too much, without overthinking every word and action.
She let out a quiet breath, wiping her eyes before standing up. It's just a cat, she told herself, trying to fight the emotions that threatened to break through. But in that moment, the simple truth of Kaito's words about his cat brought a warmth to her heart that she hadn't felt in a long time. A warmth that made her wonder what it would be like if she could let go, even just for a little while.
Outside the door, Kaito was still talking, but his words seemed to blur into the background as Himari's mind raced. She was listening now, for the first time in a long while, to the quiet space inside her heart.
"I'll probably let her inside soon," Kaito said, "but for now, we'll keep this arrangement. Just the two of us. Maybe that's all I really need right now."
The night stretched on, and Himari sat quietly, lost in her thoughts, her fingers brushing the floor in absent thought. She hadn't realized it until now, but Kaito's stories about the cat—the way he spoke of it—had brought something back to life inside her, something simple, something pure.
As the hours passed, Kaito finally stood, ready to leave, the cat still curled up in his arms. "Night five," he said casually. "See you tomorrow, Himari."
But this time, something felt different. The door between them no longer seemed so thick. The silence wasn't just empty; it held possibility.
Himari stayed where she was, her thoughts a swirl of emotions. Maybe this challenge wasn't just about me watching him, or him trying to prove himself. Maybe we're both trying to find something here... something we've both been missing.
The cat was a reminder. A symbol, perhaps. And it made Himari wonder: could she learn to stop hiding behind walls of her own making? Could she trust enough to reach out, even just a little?
Only time would tell.