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On a drowsy weekend afternoon, Zuka was resting comfortably at home.
There was no better kind of peace than sitting on the couch, watching television with nothing in particular to do.
That was when he suddenly remembered the box of cheese crackers he had bought that morning. He’d picked them up at Rocket’s request, but surely it wouldn’t be a problem if he ate just a little himself.
He got up and headed into the kitchen. Reaching up to the shelf, he took down the box of crackers and set it on the table, then bent down to look for a plate.
That was when he heard it.
A faint rustling sound.
Zuka straightened up and looked around in alarm. The sound had come from very nearby, yet there was no one else in the house. He told himself he must have imagined it and bent down again to grab a plate.
Rustle.
This time, he definitely heard it.
Had someone broken in? That seemed unlikely—Rocket had gone out to meet a friend, and it was broad daylight. A burglar would have chosen a better time.
The sound came again, as if deliberately announcing its presence.
And its source was right in front of him.
The cracker box.
More specifically, the cracker box was moving.
It twitched and shifted in small, irregular motions, as though something inside it were alive. Zuka froze, a chill crawling up his spine as he stared. Then the box suddenly lurched, tumbled off the table, and landed at his feet.
The flimsy cardboard burst open.
Crackers spilled everywhere—and so did—
A rat.
A grimy white rat sat among the cheese crackers, greedily tearing into them. Zuka yelped and stumbled backward at the sight of the uninvited guest, only to hit the wall behind him with nowhere left to retreat.
The rat flinched at his shout for just a moment, then calmly went back to eating the cracker it held in its tiny hands.
At least, Zuka noted with some relief, there didn’t seem to be any others. Just the one.
Keeping his distance, he awkwardly tried to shoo it away with his foot, stretching his leg out as far as he could. The rat ignored him completely, finishing one cracker and immediately grabbing another.
Left with no better option, Zuka steeled himself for a method he desperately didn’t want to use.
He crouched down slowly, inching forward. His hand hovered above the rat as it reached for a third cracker. Zuka exhaled once, took a deep breath—
—and grabbed it.
“I—ugh, no—!”
Eyes squeezed shut, he clenched the warm bundle of fur in his hand, terrified it would wriggle free. He couldn’t bring himself to do this twice.
But the rat didn’t struggle.
It didn’t squeak or thrash.
It just kept eating.
Completely unfazed, the small creature remained focused on the cracker clutched in its paws, unconcerned with the fact that it had been captured by something enormous.
The only time it reacted at all was when it finished eating.
It sniffed the air, twitching its tiny nose, clearly searching for more food.
That was it.
Zuka felt vaguely embarrassed by his own overreaction. Holding it like this, he could also feel how alarmingly thin the rat was. Even with his fist closed, there was far too much empty space around its frail body.
Whatever this thing was, starvation seemed like a far more urgent concern to it than the giant looming over it.
…Zuka hated himself for feeling sympathy toward a rat.
But if he chased it out now, it would probably just sneak back in looking for food. And he certainly wasn’t going to eat any crackers a rat had rolled around in.
With a sigh, Zuka gently set the rat down.
It immediately scurried back to the spilled crackers and resumed eating, holding them carefully in its thin hands and nibbling away. Only then did Zuka finally calm down enough to sit on the floor and steady his breathing.
As he watched the small creature, he began to notice more details.
Its right eye was blind. A thin scar ran above the left one, and its body was covered in old wounds. Its fur was mostly white, except for its ears, which were a deep, dark navy blue.
For some reason, the rat felt… familiar.
Thinking about who it reminded him of made a dull headache throb behind Zuka’s eyes.
Still, he didn’t like the idea of leaving it out in the open. Letting it roam freely around the house—even temporarily—made him uneasy.
That was when he remembered his hat.
He stood up, grabbed the hat he’d tossed onto the couch earlier, and held it by the brim like a scoop. In one careful motion, he gathered both the rat and the remaining crackers inside.
The inside of the hat instantly became a snug little nest.
Zuka even picked up the rest of the crackers from the floor and dropped them in, sparing himself the trouble of cleaning up. The hat was probably ruined now, but he owned plenty of similar ones.
Carrying the faintly cheese-scented bundle, he returned to the couch and set the hat on the coffee table. Then he went back to watching TV.
The rat had only wanted food. Leaving it alone for a while probably wouldn’t cause any trouble.
After a few minutes, Zuka glanced back at the hat.
The resemblance was uncanny.
The way it had barged into his house without warning, too—it reminded him far too much of someone he knew. A familiar voice echoed faintly in his head, like a hallucination.
His headache worsened.
…
A few hours later, Rocket returned from meeting his friend.
“I’m home, Dad!”
His voice was bright, his face full of smiles.
“Welcome back,” Zuka replied, still seated on the couch.
After greeting him briefly, Rocket hurried into the kitchen.
“Dad, have you seen the cheese crackers? I really want some right now!”
Zuka stiffened.
He’d been so busy dealing with the rat that he hadn’t thought about what to tell Rocket.
After a brief pause, he answered calmly, as if this were nothing unusual.
“Uh… the crackers we bought had a rat in them.”
“What?!”
Rocket’s face fell. He’d been looking forward to eating them before bed.
“…Well, I guess it can’t be helped. You chased it out, right?”
“No. It’s sleeping in my hat.”
“…Excuse me?”
Zuka said it plainly, without a hint of hesitation.
Confused but curious, Rocket slowly approached from the kitchen toward the couch. He wasn’t so much afraid as intrigued. Zuka lifted the hat and showed it to him.
Inside, the dirty white rat was fast asleep.
Rocket leaned closer, studying it carefully. Then, just like Zuka, he felt a strange sense of familiarity—and immediately recoiled.
“…I don’t like that rat.”
Zuka set the hat back down.
“I don’t either, really. But it looks half-starved, and it’s covered in injuries. I’ll take care of it for a bit, then let it go.”
Rocket frowned.
“The house is going to have that thing in it?”
“…If it stays in your room, I’ll allow it.”
Zuka nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t want it running around either.”
That seemed to reassure Rocket somewhat.
“So… did you try making it cook ratatouille?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
Rocket disappeared into his room.
A little later, Zuka turned off the TV and headed to bed as well, carrying the hat with him. After brushing his teeth and washing up, he lay down, placing the hat on the bedside table.
“Hm…”
Before turning off the light, he peeked inside once more.
The rat was still sleeping peacefully.
Zuka watched it for a moment, then switched off the lamp and drifted off to sleep.