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Rain poured from the heavens, the skies a darkening shade of grey at every passing minute. With how the droplets persisted in wetting her fur despite the elevated height of the platform compared to the puddles on the street, it might be difficult for the feline to return to the hospital. Saki might cope with the symptoms of her illness better as a cat, but there was still no guarantee that she would not catch a cold once she reverted back to her human form.
Saki’s talent to transform into a cat wasn’t something she was born with. It was gifted to her by a strange visitor. Her nurse had just left her to tend to their other patients when a large brown cat casually entered her room through her window. To her amazement, her guest morphed himself into a man. He was the one who gave her the mast, the features of a tabby cat (with its shade painfully similar to her brother’s hair—her chest ached with homesickness. She hadn’t seen him for a while. When will his next visit be?) delicately painted on the soft surface.
It has been weeks since then. Not a sufficient time for Saki to know the possible drawbacks of her transformations on both her physical and mental health, but enough to know the troubles her friends faced in her absence.
Ichika has lost the courage to use her voice. Honami has been isolated from her classmates. Shiho has built higher walls compared to before, preventing anyone from getting close to her.
Icchan, Hona-chan, Shiho-chan… What happened to us?
The heavens continued to cry, as if affected by the resurfacing loneliness Saki locked away. It sympathized with the negativity that was pushed down her throat whenever her brother paid her a visit, the wails of a child who longed to be with her friends but was trapped within the four walls of her hospital room. The steady sound of rain hitting the ground began to soothe her heart as the time passed. It silenced the booming music from the speakers of the livehouse just behind her, and the cheers that poured out of the audience's hearts.
Saki hated it.
Pools of rhodonite faced the cloudy skies. She couldn’t expect to see a message from Ichika of clouds that resembled their favorite items once she returned to the hospital. Honami wouldn’t be able to stargaze tonight, and Shiho—
“Stella?”
Her ginger ears perked up, and Saki turned to the source of the voice.
There stood Shiho, with one hand holding the guitar case strapped to her shoulder and the other wrapped around the handle of her transparent umbrella. With her wide green eyes, the girl looked genuinely surprised to see the familiar tabby cat at her workplace. Saki shared her look, equally shocked to see Shiho… well, here.
Joy replaced her initial shock as nimble fingers started to scratch her head. The feline purred with delight. Saki knew the bassist’s affinity for bunnies and cats, but she never imagined being on the receiving end of her affection until recently.
“The weather doesn’t look good, huh, Stella?” Shiho had stopped petting her, but she remained by her side, keeping her company on this rainy dusk even if a creature such as herself did not need it.
Shiho, she discovered, was too fond of animals enough to risk being late to her part-time job, apparently. Saki stored that information in her memories. She promised to tease Shiho about it when (if) she got discharged from the hospital.
Saki was aware that she shouldn’t keep Shiho to herself, but she couldn’t resist the temptation of jumping onto her lap once the girl sat beside her. She let out a yelp, followed by a resigned sigh as fingers returned to her fur.
“Seriously, you’re just like Saki,” Saki froze halfway through her stretches, “How am I supposed to do my job now, Stella?” came Shiho’s chuckle, her voice so, so soft that Saki wished that it was really her who she was referring to, not the tabby cat (Stella, as Shiho named her) she was presenting herself as.
Perhaps, in such an ideal situation, Shiho would hum while Saki’s head rested on her lap. Saki loved her voice. It was strong and piercing, yet could be gentle if you found the right song for her to sing. Calloused fingers would threat not on fur, but through locks of gold and rose, lulling the pianist to sleep.
Or, Saki could lie on her back, admiring the view of her (crush) lover smiling back at her. Shiho’s cheeks would be undoubtedly pink; she was always one to get easily flustered by acts of affection, after all. Her hand would be close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her cheeks. If she was lucky, Shiho would lay her other hand on hers, letting it rest on her face.
Saki made a content noise at the mere thought of it. She earned another lighthearted chuckle from the bassist as the fingers moved to rub her chin.
Shiho-chan, would you react the same if it was Saki Tenma lying on your lap, and not the cat that appears before you?
Aside from the occasional satisfied purrs she produced, they stayed like that in silence for as long as Saki could remember. The harsh showers that insisted on splashing her fur felt far away. The music from inside the livehouse sounded murky, but not because of the raindrops falling from the sky.
Their shared moment of tranquility was then interrupted by an abrupt sneeze! from Shiho's lap. Saki didn't need to look up to confirm that the girl was frowning by the time another sneeze followed. She felt herself being lifted, soon cradled in the bassist's hesitant arms.
Saki felt uncomfortable. Lime-colored eyes looked down at her with worry, eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. She made her worry. She made someone important to her anxious because of her weak physical condition again. Would this cycle of constantly worrying others around her to the point that she must be hospitalized and isolated never end?
Shiho would, no doubt, take her to a veterinarian. No matter how much she loved cats, she did not have the knowledge to nurse her. Saki knew she couldn't take one home either. Shiho has to go to work too. She had already kept her here for long; she shouldn't risk being more of an inconvenience to her.
However, Saki only huddled closer. Prayers came out in low mewls, desperately longing to remain with Shiho even for just a second longer.
Don’t leave me alone…
Shiho must’ve sensed her distress, somehow. The fingers returned, slowly rubbing circles on her head which did little to soothe her. With the umbrella only leaning on her shoulder, stray raindrops managed to drizzle on her fur. The emerald jacket she was cold from the rain, but there was warmth in their close proximity that did comfort her.
Still, whispered reassurances weren’t enough to calm the sneezing fit Saki was experiencing in this form. Her cat instincts begged her to jump, to run away and hide somewhere far and secluded until she calmed down. The pianist remained, tucking her tail between her legs and curling into a ball as much as the arms allowed her to.
She was only vaguely aware of her companion reaching for her phone. It rang for a few seconds, then came a voice from the other line. Saki was too distracted to listen in to the conversation, but it didn’t last long as Shiho put her device away not long after.
Then, to her surprise, they started walking to the direction where Shiho came from earlier.
“I took the day off.” Saki raised her head. Shiho noticed it and gave her a small smile, which made everything suddenly a little better. “The livehouse was already packed by the time I got there, and the manager said that a lot of their other employees could cover my shift as long as I’d be willing to cover theirs.”
Does that mean that I…
“I doubt the vet’s open in this weather. Oneechan’s not home, and the same goes for both our parents.”
Can I really…
“You could stay with me until the rain stops as long as you behave. Can you do that, Stella?”
I can be with Shiho-chan again!
Delight took over her senses as she jumped from Shiho’s arms and ran to the nearest alleyway. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it! The fast rhythm of her heart always correlated to something negative, but this time was different! She wanted to hold her, to keep Shiho close. She wanted her to wrap her arms around her in an embrace, to whisper sweet nothings directly at her ear, to express how much she longed to be with her all those times alone in the hospital ward.
Shiho’s footsteps were not far behind her when she transformed back into Saki Tenma. As expected, she stumbled. Her vision blurred, and her weak legs wobbled. But they were barely an issue upon seeing Shiho, pools of lime wide in surprise as Saki threw herself on her. The transparent umbrella was dropped to the floor, and Saki felt her return her embrace.