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Ever since Ogata was born, his mother has never paid enough attention to him. Whenever she glanced at him, it was as if she were looking right through – as if the little boy in front of her wasn't even there. Ogata himself closely observed his mother's behaviour: her dejected and distant state; the quiet, almost soundless tapping of tears on the floor when she thought no one was watching, her brief pauses while preparing food, and her eerily frequent distractions by the ticking of the clock.
Little Ogata tried to watch from afar, either out of fear of causing more harm or out of shame, believing it was entirely possible he himself was to blame for his mother's distress. No matter how sad the boy was and how much he longed to see a smile on her face, he didn't know what to do. He became confused, and was eventually infected with the same unhealthy mood that plagued his mother.
— I’m going for a walk, – a quiet voice rang out in the equally quiet room.
Ogata didn't know what he was expecting, perhaps a goodbye kiss or a simple “see you,” but as he turned around, he couldn't see anyone behind him, only feeling the haunting corridor’s walls on his skin.
He was running as if a pack of hounds were chasing him down the cold dirt road, not a soul in sight. But whatever was truly chasing him had always been up close, eating him from the inside, leaving behind bitter feelings – be it a feeling of unbearable weakness, or the urge to sob endlessly.
But Ogata ran. Sweat started to appear on his forehead and temples; the wind, enveloping his entire body, began to press on his lungs ever more intensely. His eyes watered, but not from fatigue.
Ogata was still just a child when he started to treat the local rivers, fields and roads like the back of his hand. He walked often, and for as long as he could remember, he'd seen the road before him, firm and tan, several dozen tall trees with about the same number of bushes further back from the roadsides, all the residential buildings few and far between.
Having turned into one of his favourite shrines, deserted and dark, Ogata stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the first wall of a building he came across.
After taking a short rest and looking around, Ogata suddenly spotted two brightly sparkling lights from the bushes beyond the path. It would have been difficult to discern the colouring and distinctive features of the hidden creature if not for the pale light of the moon peeking through the trees, illuminating the area.
A black cat.
Both Ogata and the cat, meeting each other's gaze, barely moved, didn't even blink, although the beating of their hearts betrayed their slowed down breathing.
Ogata was overcome with curiosity and a desire to see the little stranger in all its glory, so he decided to approach closer. But when he noticed the cat's perked-up, pointed ears, along with the equally thin whiskers and triangular pupils, he paused, a sharp sense of insecurity and an unidentifiable fear settling on his shoulders. The cat had tensed up, its piercing gaze boring into Ogata, as if it felt compelled to read him from head to toe. It wagged its tail with such grace and force that the boy was ready to run from the tension alone.
Meanwhile, a cart appeared at the shrine's entrance, its noise startling the other cats hiding nearby. The black cat, however, remained where it was, merely turning its head toward the intruder.
Coming to his senses, Ogata noticed his deep, irregular breathing and rapid heartbeat.
He didn’t want anyone to see him, so he glanced at the mysterious cat for the last time that night and ran home.
Upon returning, Ogata was met not only by the pitch darkness of each room, but also a ringing, ear-piercing silence.
Mother must have fallen asleep. Ogata noticed she'd started sleeping a lot after years of not seeing his father. Perhaps she wanted to escape reality, or perhaps the constant crying was draining her energy, overwhelming her, and causing her to simply drift off.
He was truly pained by his mother's condition, but he felt so lost and helpless that all he could think to do was to not disturb her any further.
Inevitably, the pain from the first days of her deviant behaviour subsided over time, though it still remained as a sediment building up somewhere in the corner of the boy's brain, like a parasite eating away at the mind, incessantly blooming.
Ogata tried to be near silent as he walked down the hallway to his room, and fortunately, he succeeded most of the time.
Without further thought, he fell asleep, hoping to repeat his recent encounter.
Early in the morning, as usual, the precise, careful taps of his mother's knife against the wooden board could be heard from the kitchen. She was making anglerfish nabe again. Although it woke Ogata up, he didn't want to complain, believing that cooking was the only thing that still made his mother a little happier.
Having dressed hastily, Ogata quietly peeked around the door, which afforded him a view of the kitchen.
Every time, he saw the same thing: the black curls carelessly braided into a ponytail, the poor posture; the palms of her hands, reddened from work, so crimson against the pale, smooth skin – you could easily see the blood coursing through them.
Caught up in her work, she didn't pay any attention to Ogata approaching from behind, taking a few pieces of chopped meat from a bowl.
— I’m going for a walk.
It was a cloudy day. The sky was grey, clouds thick with sunlight slithering through. It was daytime, although Ogata hadn't seen anyone moving about. Everyone must've been busy.
Coincidentally, he was as well.
Arriving at the shrine, Ogata immediately noticed the black cat under the veranda of the chōzuya positioned beside the road. At first, it laid casually on its side, its limbs straightened out, then, twitching its left ear, shook its head, sat up and began licking its paw. Ogata enjoyed watching such simplistic behaviour from the animal.
Noticing Ogata, the cat seemed to perk up again. The boy soon lifted the bag of fish pieces in his hand. The cat looked at it too, smelling something tasty.
Ogata was nervous, but he managed to control himself, putting the treats on the ground and taking a few steps back. He waited for a response.
The cat immediately stood up, shook itself, and began to approach, slowly but surely. Reaching the food, it immediately began sampling it, greedily devouring piece after piece.
Ogata was overcome with mixed emotions: fear of the unknown was replaced with the joy of success, and then, conversely, he still felt the same uneasiness from their first meeting. Ogata hesitated to approach, and the chance to pet its fluffy ears seemed rather unlikely.
Sensing the unwanted and prolonged human presence nearby, the cat seemingly decided to take a stroll. Before standing up from the ground, it flicked its tail, and as it walked around the corner of the fountain, only the pads of its hind paws were visible.
The boy decided not to hesitate and hurried after it.
They walked for a long time, almost the entire day, swapping places in the lead: sometimes Ogata followed the cat, sometimes the cat followed Ogata. However, the black-furred one continued to keep the boy at bay. It ran significantly faster, forcing the boy to often strain to keep up. Despite this, Ogata was absolutely reluctant to part ways; after all, he'd never received as much attention from anyone before.
Evening had long since approached. Walking across the bridge, Ogata didn't pay attention to his path or the numerous stars in the sky – he'd seen it all already. What was more interesting was that same cat walking along the fence a little ahead: the barely noticeable rustling of its fur in the wind, the movement of its tail, seemingly alive on its own, levitating.
But he still should've watched his step. There was a pebble on the road, over which he tripped and almost fell, crying out in fright, attracting the attention of his recent acquaintance.
The boy expected the cat to be startled, but it only cast a heavy glance at him – its sharp pupils revealed either contempt or total indifference. Ogata was once again overcome by an ambiguous fear.
The sun was setting. He couldn't stop staring at the scenery in front of him: a portrait of a magnificent and terrifying creature against a backdrop of pink and deep blue sunset. The rays illuminated every contour clearly, highlighting its silhouette. Especially now, its darkest possible shade – inky black – was especially visible.
Fortunately, the cat’s full-face staring portrait had given way to a side profile, preventing Ogata from going crazy.
The cat finally turned away, toward the sunset. The horizon was disturbed by a restless river, as a blinding light cut through the sky, reflecting in the water. Ogata took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
Leaning on the bridge railing, he joined in enjoying the beautiful view. But this, too, was short-lived – his unsatisfied interest shifted once again to the black-furred creature. Ogata knew the cat was observing his every movement, perhaps even reading his thoughts, or simply sensing his intentions due to the predictability of a child's mind. Though eerie, Ogata thought something resembling a soul was still visible within it.
Reaching out, Ogata touched its black crown, hoping to pet the cat.
Suddenly, there was a growing, disgruntled roar, cutting into his ears. Soon after, several cuts from sharp claws sliced across his hand. Ogata hadn't expected this at all, but... it was so obvious this would happen, wasn't it?
The creature finally revealed its true face, or rather, its muzzle, filled with incredible irritation, radiating a kind of poisonous hatred. Opening its mouth wide and hissing long and loud like a snake, the cat turned and raced away. If it could speak, it would have cast a parting curse on the boy.
Ogata fell to the ground, watching the trickles of blood seeping through his cuts. His helpless hands trembled, accompanied by a dizziness in his head. Something instantly struck in his mind, like a clap of lightning, as if there it went, the last drop of his sanity.
He was false to believe he knew how to truly receive kindness from anyone.
Months passed, their slow passage dwarfed by the rapid changes in the boy's way of thinking. Ogata began to notice that feelings – whether empathy, sadness, or fear – were beginning to leave his physical body. If they ever truly were there, not simply imposed onto him by someone else.
He stopped worrying about what had troubled him before. His mother became a soulless background object; an insignificant reality Ogata had tried to reshape but failed. He felt a new, strange emotion, one he had previously suppressed, unaware of its existence: debilitating boredom, a banal and tiresome state when you want to act but something prevents you. When you are consumed by the desire to make a decision that would change something, anything that would make the monotony of life and this unnecessary fake grief disappear.
Ogata stood at his mother's grave, pouring a handful of soil onto the headstone, remembering how, just recently, he'd poured poison into her plate with the very same calculated conviction.
A gust of wind swept a few tiny grains of earth away from the cold stone with its engraving of uninteresting dates on the front. Ogata reluctantly delved into his thoughts and realized one thing: he didn't regret his actions, not in the least. It must’ve been how the others felt, by whom he was treated so harshly throughout his as-of-yet short life. They must’ve felt this excruciating void, just like him.
The flapping of a tail hidden in the grass of a nearby tree rang in the boy's ears like applause.