The white cat rolled over for the third time in Yukinoshita’s arms.
Its four-paws-up posture grew increasingly brazen by the second, leaving its soft pink belly completely exposed to the elements.
Yukinoshita’s ten fingers had completely surrendered to the fluff.
She rubbed in rhythmic circles along the feline’s stomach, her technique evolving from stiff and clumsy to expertly skilled at a speed comparable to a video on ten-times fast-forward.
Tōhō Getsukai leaned against a nearby desk, quietly observing the scene.
The undisputed Ice Queen of Sobu High School had been reduced to a helpless cat slave in less than ten minutes.
Alright, the timing is perfect.
“Student Yukinoshita.”
“…Hmm.”
She responded with a noncommittal hum, her attention entirely anchored to the vibrating furball in her lap.
She didn’t even bother to look up.
Is this really the same icy beauty who was putting on airs and flipping through thick literature just a moment ago?
Tōhō mused inwardly.
The sheer destructive power that creatures like cats held against aloof beauties was truly on a nuclear scale.
“Regarding the follow-up arrangements for this little guy.” Tōhō leaned back against his chair, tilting his head to catch her eye.
“Since you said the Service Club can keep it, let’s set some ground rules.”
“What rules?”
“Co-parenting.”
Yukinoshita’s fingers paused mid-scratch.
“I’ll handle the cat food and daily supplies,” Tōhō explained, his pace measured and logical.
“You’ll be responsible for looking after it after school and maintaining the sanitation of the activity room.
We’ll take turns bringing it home on weekends, and we’ll split the veterinary costs for vaccines and deworming down the middle.”
Every point was perfectly reasonable.
Yukinoshita finally looked up, a curtain of black hair sliding down from her shoulder.
She stared at him in absolute silence for two seconds before delivering a response that was extremely on-brand for her.
“You are using a stray cat to bind me into a long-term social relationship with you.”
Tōhō didn’t even try to deny it.
A soft smile graced his lips.
“I’m not surprised that Student Yukinoshita could see right through it.”
“…”
“But you didn’t refuse, either.”
Yukinoshita pursed her lips, her gaze dropping back to the white cat.
The little creature was happily kicking her wrist with its hind legs.
She didn’t speak.
The silence itself was her answer.
Tōhō smiled wider and raised his right hand.
A slender, fair pinky finger extended across the space between them, hovering right in front of her.
“Then it’s settled.
Let’s make a pinky promise.”
“…”
Yukinoshita stared at the digit suspended in mid-air, freezing entirely in place.
“…Student Tōhō.”
“Hmm?”
“How old are you this year?”
“What’s wrong?”
Yukinoshita spoke coldly, enunciating every single syllable with biting clarity.
“Demanding that others make a pinky promise—do you have some fundamental misunderstanding about your own mental age?
This kind of behavior is strictly reserved for kindergarteners.”
Despite her harsh critique of kindergarten behavior, her body didn’t move an inch.
She didn’t lean away, didn’t turn her head, and certainly didn’t put down the cat.
Tōhō maintained his reaching posture.
He didn’t pull his hand back, nor did he urge her to hurry.
He simply looked at her with a gentle, unwavering smile.
It was an incredibly annoying smile.
It wasn’t mocking, or impatient, or even overly expectant.
It radiated a quiet sense of certainty.
It was a posture that silently communicated: If you want to hook fingers, you can.
If you don’t want to, that’s fine too.
I’ll just hold my hand here either way.
It was so gentle that it generated zero pressure.
Yet, in this specific situation, that absolute lack of pressure was the heaviest weight of all.
It is incredibly easy to refuse someone who is aggressive.
It is nearly impossible to refuse someone who asks for absolutely nothing from you.
Yukinoshita’s gaze lingered on that extended pinky for five long seconds.
Fair, slender fingers.
Well-proportioned knuckles.
Neatly trimmed, rounded nails.
The golden afterglow of the sunset happened to spill through the window, landing perfectly on those fingertips and coating them in a thin layer of warm, cinematic light.
Honestly, it was a very attractive hand.
The moment that thought flashed through her mind, the tips of Yukinoshita’s ears began to burn.
She snapped her head away, fixing her gaze fiercely on the windowpane.
“…Childish.”
“Hmm.”
“Very childish.”
“Mhm, mhm.”
“It’s simply—”
“Then let’s just say I’m childish.” Tōhō’s hand remained raised, perfectly still in the golden light.
“Childish promises are much less likely to be broken, right?”
Yukinoshita bit her lower lip.
The white cat in her arms let out a perfectly timed meow, patting the back of her hand with a soft paw.
That tiny tap snapped the very last string of her stubborn reserve.
Yukinoshita took a deep breath.
No, she actively adjusted her breathing to calm her racing pulse.
Then, agonizingly slowly, she raised her right hand.
Her movements were sluggish, every centimeter a brutal tug-of-war against her own towering pride.
Her finger extended, pulled back half an inch in hesitation, and then extended again.
Finally, her pinky finger rose to meet his.
It was slender, slightly trembling, and carried a stiff clumsiness that felt entirely alien to the usually flawless Yukinoshita Yukino.
She refused to look at him.
Her ears were bright red, and her chin was held high in a stubborn posture that practically screamed, I am only cooperating to put an end to this farce.
The two pinky fingers hooked together in the air.
Tōhō’s fingertips wrapped gently around hers.
The exact second their skin made contact, he silently circulated a microscopic wisp of Hamon Breathing.
A sudden warmth seeped in from his fingertips.
It was neither too strong nor too weak—just enough to raise the temperature at their point of contact by exactly two degrees.
Yukinoshita’s spine went rigid.
Her heartbeat skipped a full beat, then fiercely hammered twice against her ribs to make up for the lost time.
She wasn’t entirely sure of the physiological cause behind the reaction, but that strange warmth from his fingertips climbed all the way up her knuckles, settled into a very specific spot in her chest, and knocked gently against it.
Tōhō admired the rare, flustered expression on the Ice Queen’s face for a brief moment.
Then, cleanly and decisively, he let go of her finger and stood up.
“Then it’s settled.”
He picked up his school bag from the nearby desk.
His movements were fluid and brisk, devoid of any unnecessary lingering.
“I’ll bring the cat food tomorrow, and you take care of it for the first week.
If you have any questions, feel free to contact me—oh right, I wrote my mobile number on that form.”
With that casual farewell, he walked straight toward the door.
His pace was neither fast nor slow, his long silver hair swaying gently behind his shoulders.
Yukinoshita sat stunned in her chair.
Her right pinky finger was still suspended in the air, curled in a hooked position.
The residual warmth on her skin was already fading, but the echoing aftertaste of that strange collision in her chest refused to dissipate.
The white cat looked up at her frozen expression, then turned its head to watch Tōhō’s retreating figure, its blue eyes swirling with feline confusion.
Poop-scooper A has left.
Poop-scooper B is broken.
Who is actually serving dinner today?
Click.
The door to the activity room gently clicked shut.
Yukinoshita remained frozen in her seat.
The strangely relaxed, domestic mood that had settled over her was suddenly tripped up by a nagging thought.
She lowered her gaze, scanning the wooden tabletop.
She looked specifically at the spot where Tōhō had just been sitting.
Her eyes locked onto a piece of paper resting on the desk: the Service Club membership application form.
From last week until this exact second, the form remained completely blank.
It didn’t even have a name scribbled at the top.
Yukinoshita’s breathing hitched.
Her mind rapidly rewound, replaying every single detail of the past twenty minutes.
The cat.
Lifting his skirt.
Petting the cat.
Sitting side-by-side.
The co-parenting proposal.
The pinky promise.
Every single step had been perfectly logical.
Every single step had expertly dismantled her defenses without her even realizing it.
But from beginning to end, that person hadn’t laid a single finger on the application form.
He hadn’t even mentioned it.
Last time, when he left without saying goodbye and left behind half a form, she had assumed a sudden emergency had called him away.
What about today?
He left again.
He left the exact same unfilled form behind again.
Twice now.
This wasn’t a careless oversight.
This was entirely intentional.
Yukinoshita slowly retracted her hand, clasping her fingers together and pressing them firmly against her knees.
The absolute control over the conversation’s rhythm—the control she prided herself on—had been stolen from her the exact second that cat appeared.
The pinky promise, the sudden warmth, the perfectly timed exit.
That excessively beautiful “boy” had been leading her by the nose the entire time.
And she had willingly cooperated every step of the way.
Yukinoshita closed her eyes and let out a long, heavy exhale.
The white cat kicked its legs twice against her stomach and let out a soft meow.
She opened her eyes and looked down at the furball.
The furball stared innocently back up at her.
“…You are an accomplice too.”
The cat tilted its head.
Yukinoshita raised her hands, gently pinching the cat’s two front paws and giving them a light shake.
“Give up your accomplice.”
“Meow.”
[Akarin’s Note:
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