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That day, Atsushi’s shift started at eight in the morning and slogged on at a glacial drip for hours at a time. His beloved workplace, a vet’s office in one of the less heavily populated areas of Yokohama, was dramatically understaffed that day. Atsushi was a vet, but he found himself speaking to customers on the phone more often than in person, and barely saw an animal at all.
As a result, Atsushi was bored. It conflicted him that his response to the beautiful phenomenon of almost all the animals in his jurisdiction being safe and healthy was tedium and ennui, but he was only human.
As such, what happened when he answered the phone just after midday was both glorious and unexpected.
“Good afternoon, Yokohama Bay Veterinary Clinic. How can I help you?”
“My bastard cat is sick.”
There was an embarrassingly long pause between that sentence and the next as Atsushi’s sluggish brain attempted to process what had been said.
“Your uh… what?”
“Are you listening? My stupid cat is sick. She ate some plastic and now she won’t stop retching.”
The man at the other end of the line sounded stressed. He said ‘are you listening’ in the same kind of way someone else might say ‘can you hear me’, and Atsushi got the sense that he was a no-nonsense sort of person. One who seemingly had their hands quite full.
“If you want to bring her here, the clinic is empty, so I’ll be able to see to her right away.”
The man on the line exhaled. “Yes, thank you.”
“My name is Dr. Nakajima. What’s yours?”
“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.” A nice name, Atsushi thought as he entered the caller’s details into the system. His keyboard’s rhythmic clacking sound felt large in the empty office space.
“And your cat’s name?”
“Rashoumon.”
Atsushi hesitated. “Ra—Rashoumon?”
“Yes, R-A-S-H—”
“No, no, it’s okay. I can spell Rashoumon I just… wasn’t expecting it,” Atsushi interrupted.
The man paused. “Is it an unusual name?”
A laugh bubbled up unimpeded from Atsushi. “Well, it’s not nearly the strangest name I’ve heard of. I once treated a lizard named The Grand Saint Genevieve of Belfast.”
“Interesting,” Akutagawa replied. “That sounds more like the name of a parrot to me.”
Right then, Atsushi was glad the office was empty, because Akutagawa’s quip had him spluttering his laughter, a red hue colouring the tips of his ears.
“Yes, very—” he coughed, “very parrot-esque.”
Akutagawa hummed. “I will arrive at your veterinary clinic in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll see you then, Mr Akutagawa.”
“Indeed. Goodbye,” and he hung up the phone. Atsushi could only imagine a straight-faced young man, based on the sound of his voice, wrestling with his ‘bastard cat’ and wearing an expression of both anguish and fondness.
He was still mulling over that image minutes later when the most remarkable person he’d ever seen walked into the room. The man was roughly his height and of similar stature, but his hair was longer on both sides, unlike Atsushi’s one grown-out section. As well, it was black with white tips, in direct contrast to Atsushi’s own silver hair and black stripe. His eyes were obscured by sunglasses but as he entered, he pulled them away and Atsushi was left with an unimpeded view of his eyes. Grey, and sharp both in shape and severity. They were fixed on the cat carrier in his right hand, thankfully, so this man didn’t see how Atsushi was openly gawking at him.
He wore a loose, somewhat oversized button up shirt in dark grey, tucked into his black slacks and rolled up at the sleeves. Atsushi considered that he might have dressed in a hurry for the sake of his cat. What could he possibly look like if he spent just a little more time? This man was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. From the sight of the claw marks against the bare parts of his arms and the terse way he hissed at his cat, Atsushi had no doubt. He was thanking every muscle in his body that he was able to school his expression into something more professional by the time Akutagawa sought to look at him.
“Are you Mr. Akutagawa?” Atsushi asked, politely.
“Yes. I was speaking on the phone with Dr. Nakajima,” Akutagawa replied.
“Ah, yep, I’m Dr. Nakajima,” Atsushi was sheepish to admit, barren as the office was. Akutagawa had clearly been expecting a receptionist.
Akutagawa’s eyebrows furrowed, drawing Atsushi’s gaze dangerously about. “Apologies, I had thought this clinic would have a receptionist.”
“Ah…” Atsushi smiled, head tilted and eyes closing for a merciful moment. “Today the clinic has been a little… empty. Haruno, our usual receptionist, called in sick this morning and the other vets are at home on call. I’ll admit Tuesdays are usually our quietest day but not this quiet.”
It seemed to be enough to placate Akutagawa, who nodded in response and was prevented from saying more by a pained sound from the cat carrier. He looked down, carefully lifting the case onto the counter between them.
“This is Rashoumon. Where do you need her?”
“Back here.” Atsushi gestured to a door on his right. “Just put her on the examination table, please.”
The clinical lighting in the examination room was nothing to Atsushi anymore. Stark and overly bright, it irritated him at first, but this job required a person to power through much more difficult hardships that irritating lighting and soon enough standing under those lights became second nature.
Akutagawa, though? He squinted in discomfort against them. He almost seemed as if he wanted to replace the sunglasses that he’d just taken off but chose not to. Atsushi wanted to offer some sort of a solution, but honestly, he didn’t have one, and so they pushed on.
The cat that Atsushi pulled carefully from the carrier was black all over, a healthy weight and clean. She had green eyes, which Atsushi admired, but she looked uncomfortable. Like Akutagawa had said on the phone, she started retching again once she was put down.
Atsushi’s brow furrowed as he watched her. “Do you know what she ate?”
“I told you on the phone that she ate some plastic.” Again, Akutagawa seemed blunt, but Atsushi looked up to see him focused worriedly on the cat as well.
In the calmest voice he could, Atsushi clarified. “I know, but that could mean a lot of things. Did she eat plastic packaging? Or some kind of ornament?”
“She ate some sweet wrappers. My sister and I often buy those boxes of individually wrapped chocolate sweets; however, this is the first time either of us have left the wrappers within reaching distance of Rashoumon. Each of our rubbish bins has a lid to keep her out. I suspect it was me, my sister is far too meticulous, and this morning I was forced to leave our home at short notice for a work engagement.”
Suddenly, everything about Akutagawa’s demeanour made sense to Atsushi. He was clipped, blunt, possibly rude. He introduced his cat as stupid and everything he said carried a tenseness which Atsushi felt permeate his skin. His eyes were sharp and focused, and he looked as though he wanted to fidget but refused to allow himself the luxury. And now, he rambled on as soon as Atsushi had sought to relieve his discomfort. He loved this cat dearly, and he was honestly scared for her. Given that, Atsushi was a bit amazed that he’d remained as calm as he had.
“So, she ate a little plastic. Was there any food left in the wrappers?”
“None at all.”
“That’s good. Do you know how long it’s been since she ate the wrappers?”
“Roughly between twenty and thirty minutes.” Akutagawa crossed his arms against his chest, glaring as Rashoumon where she stood.
Atsushi nodded. “Alright,” he acknowledged, and then started looking more closely at Rashoumon. His first port of call was to see if anything was stuck in her throat, so he gently attempted to ease open her mouth. “My first response here would be to ind—ah!”
It wasn’t Rashoumon’s fault, really; she was stressed and scared, and with the retching Atsushi suspected that she wasn’t breathing properly. To be taken into a strange new location and poked by a strange man must have been awful for her, so Atsushi didn’t blame Rashoumon for lashing out and scratching him. She cut into his arm, and whilst it stung, it was still fairly standard practise around the clinic.
“Rashoumon,” Akutagawa hissed, appalled by her behaviour.
“Oh, it’s okay. She’s stressed and I’m a stranger, I’d probably lash out, too, if I had claws.”
Since the examination room was only used for triage, it wasn’t kitted out like a perfectly sterile surgery might be, and so the bandages they kept around for exactly this sort of thing were located in abundance on a shelf right beside the examination table. Reaching for them and patching himself up was incredibly familiar to Atsushi. He laughed to himself, because this was the most excitement he’d had all day.
“Besides,” Atsushi continued, “I’m a vet. This happens all the time!”
Akutagawa looked placated by that, but only enough to release the tightness in his folded arms and take a long breath out.
“I’m going to check her throat, and then make a decision about what to do. My first response would be to induce vomiting, hopefully then she’ll expel the foreign objects herself. It’s a procedure we treat with caution, but I’ve done it dozens of times before, so you don’t need to worry. Otherwise, I might have to carry out a more invasive procedure. I’m not talking open surgery, just a tube down her throat or similar, however if that’s necessary I’ll have to call one of the on-call vets in for safety. The likelihood is that we won’t have to go that far. Does that all sound okay to you?”
Atsushi had done this a thousand times before: with worried pet owners; rude and indifferent parents; young children and teenagers who’d never experienced anything like it before. The words came out in his calmest tone, almost by rote, and though he expected Akutagawa to shy away from mentions of invasive procedures he was surprised to see the man nodding with satisfaction as he finished.
“Whatever needs to be done to help her,” he replied. Atsushi, too, found himself satisfied by this man.
The next time Atsushi reached for Rashoumon’s face; he did his best to placate her first. Beside him, Akutagawa quietly informed him on where she preferred to be touched, and slowly she relaxed into the table’s surface.
“She does not usually like people,” Akutagawa told Atsushi once he was able to pry open her mouth without risk. “My sister and I rescued her. She was slow to trust us, and often lashes out at others when they attempt to connect with her…” his voice was soft, as if Rashoumon was sleeping and Akutagawa wished not to wake her. Atsushi noted how, as though they were connected, once Rashoumon started to trust him Akutagawa slowly opened up too. “…I should not have hissed at her.”
His arms had tightened against his chest again, but the sternness of his face had melted into a more obvious distress. Although Atsushi had trained in associating with animals, he found in practise that it was equally as important in his job to understand humans, too.
“You’re a responsible pet owner, Mr Akutagawa. It’s human to react in uncomfortable ways when you’re distressed. You’re clearly willing to learn from your mistakes, and that’s what makes you good. She knows you love her because when she leaves today, she’ll be healthy again.” Atsushi smiled. “Also, I’m going to induce vomiting. If the plastic comes out in the vomit, then she should be just fine.”
He stroked Rashoumon for a few moments more to apologise for the discomfort he’d caused her whilst checking down her throat, and as he did, he admired how well taken care of she was. Akutagawa and his sister clearly fed her well and made her feel loved, based on how Akutagawa spoke about her. Atsushi had seen some horrible sights, so each time he encountered an animal that could live well and cared for, he held on to it.
“Please call me Ryuunosuke,” Akutagawa spoke. “…Dr. Nakajima.”
Atsushi looked back at him, taking his eyes away from a peaceful Rashoumon, and saw how the tops of Ryuunosuke’s cheeks had darkened, just above where his fist covered his mouth, and below where his eyes were turned away. Atsushi really hoped that Ryuunosuke got complimented a lot.
The procedure ran smoothly. Rashoumon wasn’t happy about it, but the plastic came out easily when she vomited, and though picking out the plastic remains was hardly Atsushi’s favourite pastime, it was worth it to see the relief on Ryuunosuke’s face, and for Rashoumon to be breathing easily again.
She seemed more content once Atsushi had taken care of replacing the fluids she’d lost in vomiting and saw fit to laze in a beam of sunlight on his examination table, almost sleeping.
“If anything else happens, for instance if you see any more uncharacteristic retching, please call me right away.”
“Call the clinic, you mean?”
Atsushi paled. “Yes, the clinic, of course.” Mentally, he slapped himself in the head. “Though, if you call today before closing it’ll still be me who answers,” he laughed.
“Thank you, Dr. Nakajima.” Akutagawa bowed politely before him. His clothes were still meticulous, where Atsushi was sure he would have half un-tucked his own by now out of sheer panic if he was in Ryuunosuke’s situation.
“Please, just call me Atsushi, and I’m happy to have met Rashoumon. Even if it wasn’t in the best circumstances,” he chuckled.
“No,” Ryuunosuke agreed. “She seems to have liked you as well.”
Atsushi looked back to the cat, who he was certain had fallen asleep now, and silently wished her a happy life. “Without sounding rude, I hope she stays healthy,” he remarked.
Ryuunosuke’s brow furrowed. “Why would that be rude?”
“Oh, uh… I just… I didn’t mean to insinuate that I didn’t want to see either of you again, is all. You’ve been lovely company; I just hope I don’t see you again.” He spluttered. “I mean, I hope I don’t have a reason to see you again—no, hang on—”
“You hope not to see us again here, you mean,” Ryuunosuke interjected. Right at the edge of his mouth Atsushi noticed a smile.
“Yes,” he breathed. “…Sorry, I mangled that a bit.”
“You un-mangled my cat so I forgive you,” Ryuunosuke replied. Atsushi laughed and flushed all at once, hiding behind his hand whilst Ryuunosuke did the same.
Atsushi stood patiently and watched Ryuunosuke lift his peaceful cat into her carrier with a care and grace he could respect. It would be a little sad to watch them leave, but at least Rashoumon would be happy.
Later that same day, the sun began to set over the horizon and Atsushi was still posted behind the reception desk, biding his time until the clinic could close, and he could finally rest his head. He didn’t expect to see another soul until he made it home to his sister, Kyouka, that evening. With each passing hour, he let his mind drift back to Rashoumon, sleeping soundly on his examination desk, and Ryuunosuke, standing over her like a guardian. He thought of her green eyes and his dark hair, and let his mind wonder, free of repercussions.
Which is why he was so surprised when the phone rang.
“Good afternoon, Yokohama Bay Veterinary Clinic. How can I help you?”
“Atsushi?”
Atsushi straightened in his seat. “Ryuunosuke? Is everything okay? Is Rashoumon having trouble again?”
“No, no. Are you busy?”
Atsushi glanced around the barren office. “Not remotely. Are you alright?”
“Yes, we’re both okay. Rashoumon is still sleeping, but that’s very typical of her.” Atsushi could hear the fondness in his voice.
“That’s good to hear,” Atsushi smiled. “But if everything’s alright then why are you calling?”
Ryuunosuke hesitated on the other end of the line. “How would you feel about seeing her again?”
Atsushi’s face scrunched, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“You expressed that you hoped not to see us again in your clinic, however you also seemed to like each other. How would you feel about seeing Rashoumon outside of a professional context?”
Ryuunosuke paused. “And me.”
Atsushi didn’t know what to say; his wavering last long enough for Ryuunosuke to interpret it as a poor reaction. “Of course, if you were to see Rashoumon again seeing me would be required. I could not leave Rashoumon unattended. Not to say that I don’t trust you with her, rather that it would be poor of me as her caretaker. Though I could ask my sister in lieu of myself, however I do not know how she would address the arrangement. She is a kind person, I’m certain you would like her, and she would like you—”
“Yes, I’d love to,” Atsushi interjected. “I’d love to see Rashoumon again, and you.”
Atsushi could just about make out his own reflection in the glass doors of the clinic. Over the course of Ryuunosuke’s rambling, he’d let a big, goofy grin spread across his face and he couldn’t bring himself to quell it.
“Oh,” Ryuunosuke replied. “That would be… nice.”
“And as much as I love Rashoumon,” Atsushi continued, “I wouldn’t complain if she couldn’t make it. Just once or twice, maybe. I mean, you can’t bring cats to restaurants,” he remarked.
“No, of course.” Atsushi could hear Ryuunosuke relaxing. “She would miss you, though. You would have to make it up to her.”
“Happily,” Atsushi agreed. “Ryuunosuke?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a pen and paper? I’m going to give you my number now.”
On the line, Ryuunosuke huffed pleasantly. “Yes,” he replied. “Go ahead.”