Together, they walked the quiet streets, carrying the box with the stray kitten inside, making their way to the nearest animal rescue center.
As soon as they arrived, the staff came over to greet them. After hearing what had happened, one of them reached for the box.
But before taking it, she paused.
"Have you two considered adopting it?" she asked.
Yukima Azuma shook his head gently. "I'd really like to… but realistically, I don't think I can. My living situation makes it difficult."
The staff member nodded with a small, unreadable expression.
"I see."
Azuma turned his eyes to the kitten one more time. Its fur was tangled and dirty, but those eyes—one golden, one a pale icy blue—shone with a rare and almost mystical beauty.
"Can I come back to visit it?" he asked. "Maybe donate some food, check in on it…"
The staff's expression turned apologetic.
"I'm afraid not. If you want to do something for it, it has to be now. There might not be a next time."
Azuma frowned. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated before answering.
"We'll post its information on our adoption board. But if no one takes it in by the deadline… well, we have scheduled euthanasia days. Tuesdays and Fridays."
There was a long pause.
Azuma stared at the kitten again. Even in this uncertain moment, its odd-colored eyes shimmered like gemstones.
"…Take me to the adoption desk," he said softly.
The staff's eyes lit up. "Of course! Do you have an ID on you?"
"Yes."
"You'll need to vaccinate it and take care of a few initial tests."
"Do everything necessary. And… do you have a service to bathe cats here? I'm not confident I can do it properly in this condition."
"Yes, we can handle that. And we've got starter supplies too—food, litter box, litter, anything you'll need."
"Great. I'll take those as well."
"You're really kind," the staff member said with a warm smile.
After the paperwork was complete, the staff gently carried the kitten inside for treatment and grooming.
Azuma stood in the waiting area, staring off into space—until he noticed Megumi quietly standing off to the side, avoiding his gaze.
He narrowed his eyes.
Without a word, he stepped closer and reached out, pinching her cheek.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
Megumi flinched slightly. "…I thought you already knew."
"If you were worried, you should've just said something." He tugged a little harder. "Aren't we friends?"
The words she had teasingly thrown at him earlier were now being returned with interest.
Megumi looked away, flustered—a rare sight for the usually composed girl.
Azuma couldn't help but smile, half annoyed, half amused.
The way she had poked at the cat earlier, clearly trying to scare it into running away… it all made sense now. She had known what might happen if they left it here.
She must have known the rules—probably better than he did.
And yet she hadn't said a word. Just smiled, and let him walk into the decision himself.
"…Taking a stray cat to a rescue center is the right thing to do," she muttered. "If I'd said anything, it would've just made you feel worse. Like I was guilting you."
Azuma sighed, then reached out with his other hand and pinched both her cheeks this time.
"That's exactly why I'm saying—aren't we friends? From now on, just call me by name."
Her cheeks squished between his fingers, Megumi mumbled, "A-Azuma-san…"
He let her go.
"Hey, Katou Megumi, try to be fair next time. Don't be so strict with yourself and then let everyone else off easy. That's not friendship."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Finally, in a tiny voice, she said, "…Got it. Azuma-san."
The wait wasn't short, but eventually the staff returned—holding a very different-looking kitten.
Its once-matted fur was now pure white, as soft and clean as fresh snow.
"We've bathed it, trimmed its nails, and done the deworming—inside and out. That part's free," the staff said. "But the vaccinations do cost a bit. You'll need to bring it back once a month for the next three months, then just annually after that."
She pointed toward a nearby counter. "All the starter supplies are ready. If there's anything you don't want, we can take it back."
Azuma nodded, but his attention wasn't on the cost.
He couldn't take his eyes off the cat.
Now that it was clean, it was almost unrecognizable. A perfect little puff of white, warm and weightless in his arms. Its fur was soft as silk, its mismatched eyes still glowing with that strange beauty.
The kitten stretched in his arms, pressing its tiny pink paws against his arm.
He smiled.
"I didn't expect this little one to be a shiyu-shouhyou-ren," he murmured.
Megumi tilted her head. "Shiyu-shouhyou-ren?"
"It's a Chinese term. Describes pure white cats with heterochromia like this."
"Sounds elegant. Are there others?"
"There's a whole poetic naming system. Like—if the body's black and the paws are white, it's called Twilight Spring, Searching for Plum Blossoms. If the back is all black and the belly and paws are white, it's Black Cloud, White Snow on the Belly."
Megumi blinked. "That does sound like poetry."
Azuma chuckled. "Yeah. It's pretty romantic, huh?"
They looked at each other and shared a quiet laugh.
With the cat cradled safely in his arms, they walked out of the rescue center.
"I think I'll take a taxi back," Azuma said, glancing down at the kitten. "This little one probably isn't ready for the subway."
Megumi raised her hand slightly. "Let me help. I found it with you, and now that you've adopted it, I want to take responsibility too."
He looked at her, surprised.
But he saw no trace of guilt this time—just quiet sincerity.
"Alright," he said, smiling faintly. "Let's take care of it together."