Sundays are like the filler episodes of life. You know the ones—the beach day, the school festival, the inevitable trip to some random hot spring. There's nothing inherently wrong with them, but you can skip them and still fully understand the plot. As I lay in bed, absentmindedly petting Oreo, my black cat, I feel that familiar weight of nothingness. Oreo's soft purring is probably the only thing keeping my brain from imploding right now. She's good like that, always managing to be calm when I'm unraveling.
I sigh heavily, grabbing my phone, scrolling through the usual. Meme hubs, some obscure forums on romantic comedy tropes—nothing new. Nothing interesting. My feed is a wasteland of the same memes, the same hot takes, and I'm starting to question if I've hit the absolute peak of boredom.
"I hate Sundays," I mutter under my breath. "They're like the filler episodes of life—nothing happens, and you just sit around waiting for the plot to advance."
Oreo, in her infinite wisdom, blinks slowly at me, clearly unimpressed. She stretches, long and languid, and then rolls over, her back facing me. Even my cat has lost interest.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind spiraling into useless questions. Do pigeons ever get bored of cooing all day? Why do weekends feel shorter than weekdays? Should I take up knitting? At least I'd have a scarf by winter. My brain is a wasteland of pointless musings, and if I don't get out of here, I might lose what little sanity I have left.
"What on earth do other high schoolers do in their free time? Do they actually enjoy this endless abyss of nothingness?" I ask the universe, though I already know the answer. They hang out. They have fun. They probably don't overanalyze the concept of time and pigeons.
I sit up abruptly, causing Oreo to leap off the bed with an indignant yowl. "Sorry, Oreo. But I need to escape before my brain melts," I say, apologizing to her retreating form.
I get up, throw on a plain black t-shirt, gray shorts, and some sneakers. Simple. Functional. Not that I'm planning to impress anyone. I just need to move—to get out of this apartment before the existential dread sets in. I grab my keys and wallet, deciding to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Because, why not? Exercise is as good an excuse as any for trying to outrun the crushing weight of boredom.
Outside, the fresh April air hits me like a much-needed splash of water. The sun is warm but not overbearing, and there's a subtle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The hum of the city is distant but present, a reminder that the world is still turning, even if it feels like time has stopped for me.
"At least the world is still turning," I mumble sarcastically as I wander aimlessly down the streets of my neighborhood.
As always, I get a few curious glances. My white hair and gray eyes are enough to make me stand out in a crowd, but I've grown used to it. Most people can't help but stare. I let my mind wander as much as my feet, contemplating things that don't really matter.
"Why do dog owners always resemble their pets? Is it a conscious choice, or some cosmic joke?"
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and for a moment, I think it might be someone texting me—someone from school, maybe even Rika. But nope. Just a random notification from an app I don't care about. "I really should've asked Rika for his number yesterday. For someone orchestrating his love life, I sure lack basic contact information." I chuckle to myself, lightly facepalming. Maybe I should be less selective about social interactions. Then again, nah. I'm not that desperate. Yet.
As I turn a corner into a quieter part of the neighborhood, something catches my attention. A soft, barely audible sound—a meow. My curiosity piqued, I follow the sound to a large cherry blossom tree in full bloom. Its pink petals flutter in the breeze, and perched high up on a branch is a white cat with bright blue eyes.
We lock eyes for a moment, and I can't help but feel like this is one of those ridiculous moments that would happen in a rom-com. The cat meows again, this time louder, and I realize the poor thing is stuck.
"Great," I mutter to myself. "Now I'm rescuing random cats. What's next, walking an old lady across the street?" But there's no one else around, and the cat's big blue eyes are practically begging me for help.
With a resigned sigh, I roll up my sleeves. "Alright, buddy, let's get you down from there." The cat meows as if in agreement, and I can't help but chuckle at how trusting it is.
I start climbing the tree, which turns out to be more of a workout than I expected. Gym time has made me lean and fit, but this is different. The branches are sturdy, but the occasional slip earns me a few scratches. Still, I press on, because apparently, I'm now the guy who rescues stranded cats.
When I reach the cat, it looks up at me with those big, trusting eyes, and I can't help but feel a little ridiculous. "You're awfully trusting, aren't you?" I say softly as I carefully scoop the cat into my arms.
The descent is trickier, but I manage to get down with only a minor slip, earning me a small scratch on my knee. "Well, that was more adventurous than my entire week," I remark dryly as I set the cat down on the ground.
Yuna's POV
Sundays are pointless. They're like a blank page that everyone forgets to write on. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I even bother to get up on Sundays. My phone vibrates on the bedside table, but when I glance at it, it's just more student council updates. Nothing personal. Nothing remotely interesting.
"All student council updates and no friends make Yuna a dull girl," I think to myself, sighing heavily.
I scroll through my messages, hoping for something—anything—that might break the monotony. But nope. It's just the usual. I toss my phone aside and stare at the ceiling again, my mind drifting into pointless thoughts.
"If I rearranged my room, would it change my life perspective? Maybe I should learn to play an instrument. Or get a hobby. Is it weird that I envy cats for their uncomplicated lives?"
As I'm lost in my pointless musings, my mother's voice breaks through the silence. "Yuna, Miruki ran off again!"
Of course, he did. That cat has a sixth sense for avoiding anything remotely unpleasant, like his vet appointment today. "Alright, I'll find him," I reply, my voice flat. There's no use in arguing. Miruki has a habit of disappearing when it's inconvenient, and I've long since accepted my role as his personal search party.
"Make sure you take him to the vet this time!" my mother calls out with a teasing lilt in her voice. "And maybe you could stop by somewhere nice with that boyfriend of yours afterward?"
I roll my eyes so hard I might strain something. "I don't have a boyfriend," I mutter under my breath, knowing she's just trying to get a rise out of me. She loves to tease me about things that don't exist.
I get dressed quickly, opting for a light blue blouse tucked into black jeans. Simple but presentable. As I glance at myself in the mirror, I see the same bored expression staring back at me. "At least I look put together," I think.
Stepping outside, the warm April air greets me. It's nice, I suppose, but it doesn't do much to lift my mood. Sundays have a way of making everything feel flat, no matter how perfect the weather is.
I head toward the park, knowing that's where Miruki likes to go. He always ends up lounging on the same cherry blossom tree. I don't know why he loves that tree so much, but I guess cats have their own logic.
As I approach the park, I spot the familiar cherry blossom tree. And then I see something—or rather, someone—that stops me in my tracks.
A figure is climbing down from the tree, holding Miruki in his arms. The sunlight is behind him, creating a halo effect that blinds me for a second. My first irrational thought is that I'm witnessing some kind of surreal moment, like an angel descending from heaven. But when my eyes adjust, I realize it's Raven Gray.
Of all people, it had to be him.
He's holding Miruki, his shirt slightly dirtied, and there's a small scratch on his knee. He looks… well, like Raven. Tall, striking, and completely unfazed by the fact that he's just rescued my cat from a tree.
For a moment, I'm speechless. And that's not something that happens to me often.
Raven notices me standing there and raises an eyebrow. "Fancy meeting you here, Kishimoto-san," he says with that signature smirk of his.
I fold my arms, trying to regain my composure. "I could say the same to you, Gray-san. What are you doing with my cat?"
He glances down at Miruki, who looks perfectly content in his arms, and then back at me. "Your cat? He was stuck in the tree. Thought I'd help him out."
Miruki, the traitor, purred contentedly at Raven's feet, making no effort to return to me. I frowned, crossing my arms tighter. "He usually doesn't need rescuing. He climbs up and down trees all the time."
Raven raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe he was waiting for the right person to rescue him."
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the slight flutter in my chest at his words. "Well, thank you, anyway," I said, taking a step forward to retrieve Miruki. But as I bent down, my hand brushed against Raven's, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop.
"I didn't expect to run into you here," Raven says, breaking the silence.
"Likewise," I reply. "Do you often spend your Sundays climbing trees to rescue stray cats?"
He smirks again, that infuriatingly calm expression on his face. "Only when the alternative is dying of boredom at home."
I can't help but let out a small laugh at that. "Well, I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Sunday."
As we stand there under the cherry blossom tree, the petals gently falling around us, I can't shake the feeling that something is shifting. It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but it's there. Like our fates are slowly becoming entwined, whether we want them to or not.