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There was no such thing as an average day when living in Ijincho. Especially, when that day in Ijincho meant you were one of Ichiban’s friends.
Or in this case, his roommate.
“Fuck, what is this shit? Ouch!” Nanba muttered to himself out of pure frustration, instinct keeping his voice down in the cramped single small closet of a room he and Ichiban shared above Survive Bar. He ran his hands through his hair, cursing as his fingers caught in the tangled matt.
Ichiban stared up at the ceiling of the narrow room, slowly urging his body to wake and shake off the sleep that clung to his skin. It wasn’t unusual for Nanba to wake up before him, but the man usually had the sense to be quiet until Ichiban woke. Something must really be wrong if he’s making such a clamor so early.
“What’s the problem, Nanba?” Ichiban groaned, voice rough from the morning air, finally pulling his body together and up from sleep to look at the man in the corner. Eyes bleary, he could only see Nanba’s form hunched in the corner, clothes disheveled and hair unkempt as though the man had only just woken up himself.
“Don’t look!” Nanba hissed, eyes stabbing into Ichiban from the shadows he sat in, the fear of a stray emanating off him. Quieter, as though out of guilt, he repeated in a softer voice, “D-don’t look at me, Ichiban.” His fingers tensed in his hair, as though he sought to rip his own hair out. Before the man could retreat farther into himself, enveloped in a fear of his own creation, Ichiban crossed the tatami floor and their shared makeshift dual futon bed, gripping him by the shoulders. Face to face, the pupils of Nanba’s eyes quivering as they met Ichiban’s, blinking in slow recognition as though waking from a bad dream.
“Again, what’s the problem, dude?” Ichiban asked, scrutinizing the man from across the thin barrier of dirty glasses lens, until Nanba’s body seemed to answer of it’s own accord. From beneath his clenched hands entangled in his hair, tufts the same color as his hair seemed to twitch under his fingers, hints of white splotching the pink insides. Ichiban blinked, trying to rid the sleep from his eyes and brain, but the oddly-triangular shapes were still there, twitching again.
“Nanba…are you pranking me?” Ichiban pouted, removing his hands from Nanba’s shoulders to tug on the soft ears sprouting up from the other man’s hair.
“Owowowowow — ouch, stop it!” Nanba spat, quickly batting the man’s hands away from him, face grown pink from pain, embarrassment, or anger — Ichiban couldn’t really tell, “If I was pranking you, do you think I’d be so fuckin’ freaked out about ‘em?”
“Hmm, I guess not,” Ichiban sat back on his haunches, arms crossed as he debated the probability, “But I didn’t know men could just grow cat ears overnight. Is that, like, a symptom of some disease?”
“In my professional opinion as a nurse,” Nanba gathered himself together, face paling back to usual as he tucked his legs neatly back under him, “No.”
Ichiban felt a chuckle grow in his throat, at his roommate’s frankness in such a situation, his lips tightened in his stoic mask of a facial expression, accompanied by the awkward twitch of nervousness of unreal cat ears hiding amongst a muss of unbrushed hair. It didn’t last long before Ichiban burst into laughter, falling out of seiza and onto the floor in a heap of cackles.
“...What’s so funny?” Nanba asked with a glower, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as the cat ears atop his head twitched again with distaste.
“N-nothing, man, it’s just,” Ichiban paused mid sentence, choking on his laughter as he struggled to rise from the floor, “You look just like a haughty cat, all prim ‘n’ proper sitting there seiza —” He kept laughing, unable to finish his sentence through snickers until Nanba knocked him slightly on the head with the flat of his palm. Ichiban, sensing the gig was up, coughed out his final laugh and wobbled himself back up to a sitting position as Nanba sighed, sitting back hard on the floor and rubbing at his matted hair, “I just don’t get it. I’d think it’s some prank too if they didn’t really feel like they were mine, y’know? Whatever the case, there’s no way I can go outside, or even downstairs, until I fix it.”
Slowly, Ichiban took Nanba’s hand from his hair, wrapping it tightly within his own, the man slowly meeting his eyes, “Until we fix it.” The shine of determination must have been visible in Ichiban’s eyes, for Nanba huffed, looking away from Ichiban as a flush tinted his cheeks, cat ears twitching and giving away his true feelings, “Dummy. It’s not your problem.”
Ichiban admired Nanba’s tsundere side for only a moment before squeezing his hand tight in his own, exclaiming aloud the second the idea popped in his head, “Wait! I got it!” He quickly dropped Nanba’s hand, rushing to their shared closet and sliding the door wide open. Ichiban began to dig around in the warzone of boxes, junk, and untidy clothing, Nanba only able to sit uncomfortably in the suddenly chilly room and watch over his roommate’s shoulder.
After a moment, Ichiban returned from the closet, a single shoddy bucket hat in hand, “Dun dun dun-daa!” Nanba merely frowned, at both the sound-effect attempt and the seemingly useless item Ichiban held. Ichiban grimaced, shutting the closet door with his foot, “Z〇lda, treasure chest…tough crowd, huh?”
“What is a past-its-lifespan hat going to do for me?”
Ichiban slapped the hat over Nanba’s mussed hair and pointy ears, gesturing wordlessly with his hands in a simple ‘what do you think?’ gesture. Nanba peered from under the brim, the hat too big for his head, the ears twitching under the cap as they felt awkwardly smashed in the limited space.
“You’re right. This will do, until I can get myself back to normal.”
Ichiban grinned down at the catboy’s form, legs neatly folded under him and eyes meeting his from underneath the broad brim of the hat. After a moment, Nanba adjusting the hat to fit better on his head, he rose, wordlessly taking and squeezing Ichiban’s hand with all the strength his slender fingers could muster.
Downstairs in the unopened Survive bar lobby, Ichiban ate the remainders of a cold, leftover bento he had scavenged from the fridge. Before parting temporarily to get ready for the day, he and Nanba had agreed they’d scour Ijincho together for any hint as to Nanba’s sudden catty infliction, which, in Ichiban’s mind, equated to an all-inclusive 1-day pass date with Nanba. It wasn’t often the two of them had the day entirely to themselves, aside from secluded mornings or nights in the dim closet of a room they shared; Ichiban having sent a quick message to tell everyone the usual plans were called off, due to Nanba feeling “under the weather.” Ichiban set his phone atop the bar as Nanba’s heavy steps came thudding down the stairs, having changed out of his pajamas to his usual outfit, accompanied by the bucket hat Ichiban had picked out for him earlier this morning. Admiring him from the barside, Ichiban thought the hat suited the other man, in some weird way — as though that cast aside belonging of Ichiban’s always belonged there.
“Well? Are you ready to get going?” Nanba asked, the edges of a pout pulling at his lips as his hands fiddled with the brim of the hat hiding his eyes and secret from view.
“You won’t eat?” Ichiban asked through his finishing bite of rice, waving the nearly-empty bento box at Nanba, “There’s some left. You can have it.”
“Don’t need it,” he pushed the offering away as he headed to open the front door of Survive, waiting for Ichiban, “I have some savings from our last job together. Let’s stop by Pocket Cafe and see if there’s any leads there.”
“What, like a ‘lost cat’ poster?” Ichiban snickered, abandoning the unfinished bento on the bar counter and pushing past Nanba to the chill spring air, borrowing the key from just inside to shut and lock the door to Survive. His cheeky remark earned him a light punch from the other man, who turned away and began speedwalking away without another word.
“Wait! Wait up!” Ichiban yanked the key from the door as he followed to catch up. Nanba was already a particularly hard person to read, his true thoughts and intentions hidden behind crude words and a usually contemptuous expression, but with the bucket hat guarding half his face at all times, Ichiban was slowly finding it harder and harder to understand him.
“Mmm…nothing warms you up on a spring day like some simple, warmed milk,” Nanba pressed the ceramic mug to his lips, taking a long drink that left a foam mustache across his stubble, licking idly at the edges of his lips as he set the cup down, “You don’t like it?” Nanba met Ichiban’s eyes from across the table for the first time since they sat down, and Ichiban didn’t have a reply for him. Wordlessly, he pushed the order across to Nanba, who’s eyes lit up with glee. Underneath the hat, Ichiban could see the perk and twitch of the cat ear tips, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing. Even underneath Nanba’s unreadable mask and cold words, the man was unable to keep the simplest things hidden and away from Ichiban’s view. Even earlier, as they had ordered, Ichiban had bit his tongue so hard he couldn’t speak at the sight of the cat ears moving under the hat, resulting in Nanba merely duplicating his own order for Ichiban as he struggled in pain — two steamed milks, now both in Nanba’s clutches.
“So no sign of anything that could explain…the you know what?”
“Nope…no other, inconspicuous bucket-hat wearing catmen we could interrogate for an answer, as far as I can see…” Ichiban sighed, dramatically shrugging as he rested his chin on his hands, watching idly as Nanba began to finish the second cup of steamed milk Ichiban had given to him.
“Like they’d be that obvious,” Nanba licked the foam mustache, stacking the cups on the table as he began to rise, “Maybe lets check where cats hide. Perhaps they’re trying to blend in somewhere, or there’s some cat-exclusive antidote to spontaneous cat-ification.”
“Nice idea, Nanba. Let’s catch us some kitty cats,” Ichiban threw a thumbs up, mood swapping at the idea of again getting to walk the town, hand in hand with Nanba until they found what they needed, at the end of a calico-colored cat rainbow. Whether or not that idea got across to Nanba, Ichiban couldn’t tell, the man’s face as stoic as ever as he cleaned up the table, straightening the napkins and their mugs. Together, they left Pocket Cafe for the bustling main street of Ijincho, Nanba pulling his borrowed cap tight against his head and lowering his gaze to the streets, as though the man himself wanted to disappear further. For him, now, merely being apart of the Yokohama crowd was too much, only satisfied in the safety of the shadows of the sun. Ichiban could have guessed that Nanba’s propensity to the alleyways and shadows was from his long life spent on the streets as a homeless man, but that had never matched the Nanba he knew. His sudden inclination to the side streets and the shadow of his cap’s brim could only be one thing.
“Nanba!” Ichiban heard the words in the bustle of the air before he realized he said them, his hand having snapped out instinctually to grab at the other man, only noticing once the warmth of their hands connected through the thin barrier of Nanba’s gloves. Maybe Nanba found his outburst embarrassing, his eyes meeting Ichiban’s only briefly before he looked away, the edges of his lips curling inwards as he chewed on his cheek; their hands stayed connected as the streams of people divided around them, passing by as water flowing around a tree who fell to be with the rocks.
“Chinatown,” Ichiban finally managed, his first coherent thought that was acceptable to pass his lips since he caught that glimmer of hope in Nanba’s eyes only moments ago, “Let’s go to Chinatown.”
“Chinatown will be even busier than here, so I don’t think that’s a great idea…” Nanba began, trailing off as his eyes wandered to the shadowy side streets.
“Trust me?”
Maybe Nanba fell for the pleading puppy dog expression Ichiban mustered onto his face, the whispered words that sounded like an echo in the din of Ijincho, or the shortened distance that left their outstretched hands folded against each other. Regardless, he gave a short nod, tipping the rim of the bucket hat barely to obscure his eyes for just a moment. Seizing Nanba’s hand even tighter, fingers interlocking, Ichiban began to pull the both of them up the stream of people from Ijincho’s main streets to the off shoot of Chinatown at the edge of town.
“I didn’t know there were cats in Ijincho’s Chinatown,” Nanba commented as Ichiban led them through the thinning throng of Chinatown regulars and tourists. Their hands had stayed interlinked since joining outside Pocket Cafe, Ichiban pulling the other man along towards the destination in mind while Nanba fought to stay close despite the people crowding close, hiding their joined hands in their close proximity and sway of his jacket.
“Well, they’re not technically in Chinatown,” Ichiban said, grin audible in his voice, people vanishing from sight as the pair made their way to a small parking lot on the far outskirts of Chinatown. At first glance, it seemed no more out of place than anything else in Ijincho, several cars parked next to city-mandated vegetation, the sounds and smells of Chinatown seeping over from where the restaurants and food carts lined the bustling Chinatown streets. Ichiban crouched down on the asphalt of the parking lot, unlinking their hands for the first time since they had joined them on the main street of Ijincho. Nanba watched from under the brim of his hat, wiping the sweat off his palms on the front of his shirt. He hadn’t even realized how warm it had been between the two of them, holding hands together for so long without separating even once. Ichiban took from his pocket a small foil bag, shaking it lightly as he fumbled to open the seal. Nanba watched in confusion for a moment, crouching down carefully next to the other man as small faces and wide, blinking eyes began to appear from the shadows under cars, or between the leaves of the bushes.
Nanba felt the ears atop his head twitch at the sight of the look-alike creatures slowly beginning to emerge from their hiding spots, and Ichiban, casting a side glance the other man’s way, thought he even saw the catboy’s eyes widen in likeminded surprise, both man and animal alike seeing each other for the first time. Several cats cautiously began to approach Ichiban as he laid small treats on the asphalt a short distance away from the pair.
“How on earth did you find out that there’s a colony of cats living on the edge of Chinatown…?” Nanba sighed, tone exasperated despite the obvious amusement that lit up the edges of his eyes, creased into a smile.
“Zhao told me,” Ichiban said as he shook several more treats out onto the ground as more cats began to nervously approach the others, sneaking their way in to snatch the treats he placed for them. Nanba offhandedly made note of the sense of pride the man carried in his voice as he said that, his shoulders stiffening back despite his crouch.
“I guess he feeds them the leftover scraps from his restaurant in the evening. But, they usually spend the day in this parking lot, and are happy whenever they get treats like these.” He shook the bag, offering it teasingly in Nanba’s direction. Nanba wrinkled his nose in reply.
“No, thanks. But I’m glad they’re well taken care of. The rascals,” he stretched a hand out to idly pet the head of a black cat who had strayed too close to him, the cat flinching at the sudden contact but not moving away.
“I don’t see any catboys here besides, well, you,” Ichiban held in a snicker, shoulders shaking and scaring several kittens who had gathered at his feet. He noticed the tips of Nanba’s ears perk up at his mention, hand still deftly petting the head of the cat at his feet, soft vibrations of purrs barely audible over the quiet din of Chinatown. Nanba sighed, “Of course we wouldn’t. There’s no such thing as ‘catboys’ anyways, so finding one in Chinatown of all places…”
“I mean, if catboys don’t exist, then what are you…?”
“A fuckin’ anomaly, I guess,” all of Nanba’s happiness seemed to be drained from the amount of sighing he had done this hour alone, “Maybe I really should just go to the doctor. Not like I have the cash for that, though.”
“Maybe that is your best bet,” Ichiban exhaled as he stood, knees grown weak from having been locked in a crouch. The cats had begun to retreat once they realized Ichiban no longer had treats he was willing to give them, leaving only the black cat that sprawled happily on the ground in front of Nanba. Nanba’s own cat ears twitched in time with the beat of the little cat’s tail, his hand rubbing up and down the cat’s stomach as it purred, the pair seeming as though they hadn’t noticed Ichiban’s intentions on leaving.
“There’s one other place Zhao knows of with a feral cat population, we can go ask him…”
“Oh! Ichiban! Nanba!”
Before Nanba could hear or even reply to Ichiban’s second search party session, the voice of a young woman called out to them both from the gate exit of Yokohama’s Chinatown. Saeko waved her free hand at the pair after having called out to them, a heavy paper bag leeching oil stains in her other hand with a meatbun hanging between her lips, muffling any further shouts she attempted. Next to her, Eri waved quickly, a melting creamsicle in her mouth and a similar, much heavier-looking bag in her arms. The pair of girls had practically teleported to the empty lot before either Nanba or Ichiban could move, decimating their snacks along the way.
“What are the two of you doing out here?” Saeko asked, offering the bag in their direction, “Want a meatbun?”
“No, thanks,” Nanba declined, having stood up with the black kitten in hand, instinctually taking a step back behind the taller man next to him.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Ichiban said, digging in Saeko’s paper bag for a meatbun and beginning to munch heartily, “What are you doing here?” He spoke between chews.
“Grocery shopping,” Eri smiled, hoisting the bag farther up her arm, “The barmaster gave us a list.”
“And I see you two are, uh, out stray cat hunting? Ichiban, I thought you said Nanba was sick. And speaking of Nanba, what is with that get-up, Nanba?” Saeko questioned, having begun munching on another meatbun in the process.
“I, uh, I really don’t feel well. Keeps the sun off me,” he gestured nervously at the bucket hat, lifting a fist in a pretend cough and doubly to hide his gaze from meeting Saeko’s see-all, piercing vision. He nearly screamed when he felt the cat ears move from under the hat, perking up at the smell of their floral perfumes.
“What. Is that?” Saeko asked as she swallowed her last bite of her second meatbun, eyes growing wide as her now-free hand pointed at the top of Nanba’s head, where hat met hair and where a pair of cat ears sat properly atop his head just under the thin fabric of the hat. Nanba, unable to find a suitable answer, merely stammered, letting Ichiban take his place in the conversation, “It’s his growths. Or tumors. Whatever the doctor said.”
“What are you even talking about — ugh, just move!” Saeko pushed her way past Ichiban, who had spread his arms wide to try and block Saeko’s vision and grabby hands, reaching and snatching the bucket hat off of Nanba’s head in one easy grab. Nanba didn’t have time to cover the ears atop his head like he had this morning, with one hand cupping a small cat and his free hand too slow to catch up with his racing thoughts and pounding heart.
Nanba didn’t see their reactions, his eyes clenched shut, but instead heard it. Eri hiding a laugh under her breath, and failing, her voice rising louder. Peeling open his eyes, he saw Saeko’s hand still outstretched holding the bucket hat, eyes wide and the edges of her lips curling into an indiscernible expression.
“What, okay? It’s embarrassing. I woke up with stupid cat ears of all things, as a grown man, and I can’t fix it even as a sham of a ‘medical professional.’ What do you want me to do, live the rest of my life as a catboy?” The words spilled out before Nanba could vet any of it, all the day’s troubles and frustrations that he and Ichiban had been unable to solve alone, “I just thought that maybe I’d, like, psychically know something if I interacted with cats or something. It was better than sitting around moping until it cured itself!”
Saeko’s mix of expressions finally solidified, lips curling into a smile and a laugh bursting from her lips. She bent at the waist crippled with laughter, dropping the bucket hat and causing Eri to cease her own chuckles and lunge to stabilize the paper bag of meat buns Saeko carried and prevent them from spilling on the asphalt.
“Oh…my god…” she choked out through wheezes. Even Eri was still unable to stifle her laughter.
“What? What’s so funny? Is being afflicted with an unknown disease funny to you!?” Ichiban huffed, stepping in front of Nanba to protect him from the girl’s jeers.
“No, no, it’s just - move, you big doofus,” Saeko choked out through her laughter, slowly composing herself as she reached towards the man cowering behind Ichiban. She reached her hand up to the soft ears atop Nanba’s head, and after some soft fiddling, plucked the left ear off easily. Nanba stared wide-eyed and slack jawed at the dismemberment that just happened to him — not sure whether he was more shocked that he was free from his curse or that it had been that easy and painless.
“But it hurt when we tugged on it, so it’s real! It’s not just some kind of toy!” Ichiban protested, reaching his fingers out to feebly grasp the loose ear in Saeko’s hand when he noticed the shiny, sharp hair clip attached at the base.
“Obviously it hurt. They’re alligator claw hair clips, attached at the base of the scalp, yanking it is just plain painful.”
Ichiban looked between the loose cat ear clip in Saeko’s hand and the single clip remaining in Nanba’s nest of hair. He reached up, searching at the base of Nanba’s head, skin warm to the touch, until he found the cold metal of the claw clip at the base of the cat ear. Nanba struggled not to squirm at the feeling of Ichiban’s hand in his hair, the sensation intimate and unfamiliar alike, that hand warm in the fuzz of his hair as tangles snagged on Ichiban’s long fingers. Having found the clip, Ichiban pinched the larger part, carefully removing the teeth from the curly tangles of Nanba’s hair. The right cat ear clip smoothly removed itself from Nanba’s head, finally undoing the man’s affliction.
“H-how did you…? When, when even did you?” Nanba stammered, patting his head and finally feeling the soreness of having two hairclips nestled tightly in his hair all day and presumably overnight.
“You got super drunk last night, like beyond blackout,” Saeko began, “You kinda spilled some stuff to Eri and I, and, well, we thought a prank like this would be kind of funny. As payback.”
It was true that Nanba couldn’t remember much from last night, and felt his face flush over the possibilities of what he could have possibly spilled to the girls.
“Well, want to head back to Survive? I figure that a home cooked meal could be the best ending to your day out today, right, Nanba, Ichi?” Saeko winked, turning away before the boys could answer. Nanba felt himself practically collapse in exhaustion and relief, burying his face in his hands and groaning.
“Hey, easy now, tiger,” Ichiban consoled him, taking the other man’s head into his chest and patting his head, now devoid of cat ears, “I’m sure whatever you told the girls cant be that bad.”