“Chitose Takeda? Please head into the examination room.”
At the receptionist’s prompt, they walked in. Dr. Suda, clad in a white coat, was smiling.
“All right, let’s have a look.” Suda spoke as if he were addressing a child. Abino always marveled at how effortlessly he examined Chitose, who usually disliked being touched.
After performing the physical examination and blood tests, Dr. Suda said, “The results aren’t great.”
“I see.” Abino nodded. In truth, on her way here, she’d been hopeful that Chitose would make a miraculous recovery. After all, she was still young, so things could improve. But miracles didn’t happen. From the day they’d met, Chitose’s underlying condition had steadily worsened. “I see,” she repeated. Her eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t spill over.
On the steel examination table, Chitose tilted her nose toward Abino, so Abino leaned in, bringing her face down to her cat. Chitose’s snout was soft and damp. Abino wished for moments like this to last forever. If it meant advanced treatment was necessary, she would spare nothing.
I’m going to save Chitose.
“Dr. Kokoro, it was you who saved Chitose, and even though she’s shy, she’s grown fond of you. That’s why I’d hoped she could continue her treatment here with you for as long as possible, but…”
“Please don’t hesitate if you want to get a second opinion. I can provide a referral letter for you.”
“I recall you mentioning that you have connections with a renowned animal hospital in the east. You spoke about the advanced research in animal medicine abroad and how this hospital has incorporated those treatment methods. I’ll do anything if it means my cat can live even one second longer. Could you please make us a referral?”
“Well…to get treatment at this facility will cost more than you think. Not to mention the time it will take. You’re a popular geisha, Abino. What will you do about work?”
“I’ll figure something out,” Abino pleaded.
Dr. Suda let out a bitter sigh. “As I mentioned from the beginning, this cat requires careful consideration. And no matter how ready you think you are, you can never truly anticipate the extent of care animals require. They can’t speak up for themselves.”
“I understand Chitose better than anyone. Besides me, she has no one else. I’m prepared to go anywhere and do anything for my little one,” said Abino.
“I see. If you’re so determined, let’s consider transferring Chitose to a veterinary hospital that offers advanced treatment.”
Abino felt like she could see a glimmer of hope. In the taxi on their way back, she spoke to Chitose.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll make sure you get better. Let’s stick together forever and ever.”
Abino closed her eyes. The sound of pattering reverberated around her. When she looked up, she saw large raindrops pelting the taxi’s windows, and in an instant, the rain swelled into a torrential downpour.
That night, as always, Abino carried Chitose to the second floor of the okiya. She was about to turn off the lights when Chitose approached her. She stared up at Abino, her tail alert. From her expression and gestures, it was clear she was asking for something.
Abino crouched and extended her hand. She was used to being ignored by Chitose when she beckoned her. Nonetheless, she still said, “Come here.”
Chitose’s black pupils widened inside her copper-colored irises. She sniffed Abino’s fingers and nuzzled her face. She rubbed clockwise with the brown patch of fur, counterclockwise with the black, then with her white muzzle. Then she climbed from Abino’s hands into her arms. She pressed her front paws against Abino’s chest and stood up.
Perhaps it was the environment in which she grew up, or maybe it was her personality, but Chitose was not a cat that calmly allowed herself to be carried. Yet today, she remained serene in Abino’s embrace. She licked Abino’s cheek with her rough tongue.
“What’s gotten into you? You’re quite the cuddle bug today, aren’t you?”
She lifted her up and gently placed her on her bed. Perhaps Chitose was still feeling a bit anxious from having gone to the vet. Maybe she sensed the impending transfer to another clinic. She wandered around on the bed for a moment before resting her head on the edge of the pillow and curling up into a ball.
Abino lay on the bed, careful not to move the pillow, and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Even if it means we have to go to a hospital far away, I’ll do everything I can. Chitose, I know you picked me because you believed I could save you. I can handle anything. I’m not going to give up.”
Strangely, Abino didn’t feel any anxiety. Taking the first step toward a new treatment option filled her with hope. Chitose would live as long and as happily as any other healthy cat. Lost in the visions of a brighter future, Abino drifted off to sleep.
She was stirred awake by a shift in the air. Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting shadows on the floor. In the darkness, a feline-shaped silhouette emerged. Its ears stood tall and pointed, and the tip of its elongated tail was slightly bent.
“Chitose?”
When Abino attempted to rise, the shadow leaped nimbly through the window. Abino rushed after it and leaned out. It wasn’t totally dark outside. Chitose looked up at her from the moonlit cobblestone streets of Gion.
The words on the flyer on the external wall of the animal hospital had been rendered illegible by last week’s downpour. Dr. Suda came out while Abino was replacing an old flyer with a new one. He looked up at the sky, then smiled awkwardly.
“How’s it going? No luck?”
“No. Whenever I put up new posters, I get some leads, but they always turn out to be dead ends. I check every day with the police lost and found and with the pound, but no luck. Where in the world could she have gone?”
Abino directed the question at the photograph of Chitose printed on the poster. Three months had passed since her cat disappeared.
That night, when Abino had rushed outside, Chitose had still been on the main street. But in the blink of an eye, she’d vanished. In the dark, Abino had desperately searched the neighborhood, crawling on her hands and knees to peer into gutters, getting covered in mud from the bushes, and weeping while she scoured the area until morning. If it hadn’t been for Shizue’s intervening, she wouldn’t have stopped. But now she regretted not having continued for longer. She should’ve given up everything else and searched harder.
“Seriously, where did she go?” Abino muttered.
“I’ve told you countless times that pets can get lost, no matter how careful you are. There’s no point in blaming yourself any further,” said Dr. Suda firmly.
Ever since Chitose had disappeared, Abino had been leaning on Dr. Suda quite a bit. She’d lost the cat that he had entrusted to her. She was sure he must want to chastise her, yet he never once blamed her and instead offered her support. Still, Chitose was missing. The photo on her poster had become blurry and faded in the rain.
“Look, this again. It’s not good,” said Dr. Suda.
