“So that means you can stay home for a while, then? Lucky you—you’ll get to play with Tank more.”
“But this guy here mostly sleeps during the day,” said Daigo. “Ragdolls are such a calm breed. He looks like a stuffed animal.”
Daigo turned around to see Tank, curled up into a ball in the cardboard box, observing them at the table. With Tank sitting in it, the cardboard box looked like a fancy designer armchair.
The instruction leaflet given to them by the doctor was inaccurate. It was clear he was not an American shorthair. He had a long, fluffy coat and blue eyes. There were many similar-looking breeds, but after researching online, Tomoka determined that Tank, with his white and dark brown fur, appeared to be a purebred Ragdoll. And he was more beautiful than the cats in any of the videos. He was calm and never zoomed around or leaped unexpectedly onto high surfaces. About all he ever did was gently tap at his toys with his paws.
“Tank is a quiet cat, huh? That weird leaflet made it seem like he would be mischievous.”
“He really is. A cat as elegant, clever, and beautiful as Tank…I wouldn’t mind keeping him,” said Tomoka. She gazed at him dreamily.
The edges of his ears were tinged with a rich brown, while the rest of his coat was a mix of deep chestnut and white. The bridge of his nose was pristine white, while a subtle touch of brown circled his blue eyes. His chubby, whiskered muzzle was white and resembled marshmallows. Yes, he was like a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows on top. He was so irresistibly sweet, just looking at him made your heart melt.
“Ohhhhh,” Tomoka sighed.
“You’re making weird sounds again,” said Daigo, laughing.
Although he’s currently unemployed, it doesn’t mean he’s a freeloader, thought Tomoka. As long as one of us is employed, we’ll have enough to get by. There are no problems. Plus, even with a cat around, our home stays clean, and he always looks put-together. Everything is perfect.
But what did that doctor say? That I’m doing everything wrong? I do everything the right way. I’ve always been this way and always will be.
The next day, a client with an appointment came by the store. She arrived thirty minutes early, catching Tomoka and Junko off guard.
The client owned a clothing and accessories boutique in Gion. She’d taken a liking to Tomoka’s bags and had placed large orders in the past. Not wanting to keep her waiting, they ushered her into the office on the second floor. Junko hastily cleared the table, still cluttered with sketches and fabric swatches.
“Oh, just leave things as they are. You seem busy. It’s good that your business is doing well.” She spoke with an elegant Kyoto dialect, but to accept her words at face value would have been naive. Some Kyoto natives were known to smile as they delivered snide remarks. The implication was clear: being unprepared meant they were careless.
“I’m so sorry, Kozue. Until just a moment ago, I was sketching a design I thought you’d like, and I lost track of time.”
“Oh, really?” asked Kozue, picking up a sketch that had been left on the table. “Well, this is quite cute. How unexpected. I didn’t know you did these sorts of designs.”
She was holding one of Tomoka’s absentminded sketches of Tank. The drawing was simple, capturing his essence without being overly sweet. Ever since she took in Tank, her hand naturally sketched cats. All her doodles were cats.
“Oh, that.”
“This is cute. I’m interested in placing an order for a few more of the bags we discussed before, just in different sizes. Is there a way you could cleverly incorporate this cat illustration somehow? Something tasteful, nothing too childish or cheap-looking. Could you do that for me, please?”
“How about a leather charm stamped with foil or a detachable pouch? The main material could be metallic to give it a vintage touch.”
“That would be wonderful. There are many cat lovers among the bar owners of Gion—they’ll love this. I know someone who adores cats, and she thinks your bags are lovely. Can I bring her with me next time?”
With perfect timing, Junko brought out the sample of the bag. Kozue checked it out and upped her order before she left.
“Now, that was close.” Junko let out a chuckle.
“Truly,” said Tomoka. “It’s all thanks to Tank. But no matter how good of a customer she is, I wish she’d respect our time. Showing up suddenly and saying ‘Just leave things as they are,’ without caring about our schedule—”
“Um,” interjected Mitsuki timidly, “I actually received a call from Kozue asking to move up her appointment.”
“Oh no, Mitsuki. Did you forget?”
“I’m so sorry. Ever since the office assistant quit, I’ve been swamped. I took the call while doing other things, and I just forgot.”
She “just” forgot? Tomoka was about to yell at her to get it together when Junko intervened.
“Well, thanks to that, it looks like the design Tomoka was pushing for will actually be produced. Why don’t you create a print with your cat illustration? Maybe we can even make it our brand’s logo.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea. And cats are cool right now,” said Mitsuki.
Mitsuki was already back to her calm self. She had always had a carefree attitude. When others had complained, she’d been quick to join the bandwagon, yet it hadn’t taken much to convince her to return to work. But she was also full of excuses. Life must be a breeze when one was that carefree, but there was no way Tomoka could live like that.
“A print,” murmured Tomoka, looking at her cat sketch.
The sketches of Tank all showed his face. If they were serious about using an illustration, this rough sketch drawn for fun wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to digitize the sketch to process it properly.
From the moment Tank arrived, he’d been a calm and gentle cat. His movements were leisurely, and he often climbed onto their laps, seeking scratches. He also didn’t mind being picked up, and he felt like a plush fur pillow you could pet endlessly. Just thinking about the texture of Tank’s fur made Tomoka’s expression soften.
When Mitsuki went down to the ground floor, Junko laughed. “You must care a lot,” she said.
“Huh? About what?” Tomoka asked.
“The cat. Your face looks, you know, more relaxed. You said you got a cat from that clinic at the corner of Rokkaku and Takoyakushi streets. Seems like you’re really fond of it, huh?”
Tomoka’s cheeks flushed. Junko had hit the nail on the head. She wasn’t aware of her grinning, but it seemed her cat obsession had been quite apparent.
“Yeah, I guess. When you have a cat, you realize they’re pretty cute.”
