Modern Love

Both Kou and Rebecca had become peek-a-boos. Stella couldn't back down. Not anymore. Those two had seen her... altercation with Shigure. If their cat ears were functional, they might've even heard it, too. It was done. Inevitable. She'd made a mistake, and now she'd have to own up to it.

Shigure glanced at Stella's house as they walked past it. "So that's where you got food from," he mumbled. "Your neighbors. I was hoping it wouldn't be anything worse."

"Hmph. By the way, they think we're married."

"...of course they think we're married."

"Don't say otherwise. Please."

Kou and Rebecca hid with such perfect synchronization that Stella had to hold back the urge to clap. Moments later, the door to their house opened. Rebecca no longer wore (black) pajamas; now she had (black) fake leather pants, a (black) fake leather jacket, and... underwear...? It looked like it, at least. It matched the blood red of her lips. "Hello hello!" She greeted. "Welcome. Pleasure to meet you, Mr..."

"Fuyukawashigurebo—bwah!"

He'd actually karate-chopped Stella's head. It was symbolic, but still. "Fuyukawa," Shigure corrected. "Nice to meet you, uh."

Rebecca's ears had flattened at the gesture, but she seemed to recover quickly. "I'm Hisa... Rebe... Rebecca Fern." Never mind. "Um. Come in. Food's ready."

As she led them inside, the lights turned on by themselves. Shigure blinked, a bit taken aback by the decor, which made sense, since dark green and mustard weren't the best color combination for walls, especially with the cow print couches, aesthetically incoherent paintings, or the avant garde carpets they'd seemingly crafted out of dirty clothes. Indifferent, or proud, Rebecca guided them to the dining table. Shockingly, it was clean.

"Sit wherever you want!" Rebecca said."I'll be riiight back."

Shigure didn't sit. He judgmentally stared at a sock hanging off one of the dining chairs. Stella slapped it off with her tail, then sat. She patted the spot next to her. "If you'd told me we'd sit down to eat..." He trailed off. The sniper stare was back, now aiming at what was almost certainly, Kou hiding behind a couch. He had a blanket covering him, but that didn't help much.

"That's Rebecca's husband," Stella explained.

"What the fuck is he doing?"

Great question. "Irrelevant. What matters is that he's happy."

"Why did tell me to get a psych check but not... oh, whatever." He tried to sit down, but the chairs were too close together; everything was. If he pulled it out enough to fit his legs, the back of the chair hit a fridge box whose contents ominously rattled. In the end, Shigure had no choice but to remain standing, hands into his pockets. "So, my dearest wife, how's life?"

"It's very good, my dearest husband. Let's do things married couples do later."

There it was, that you're-a-peeing-dog stare, raised eyebrows, half-lidded eyes.

"Not that," Stella clarified.

"That?"

"Oh, no, no. I won't fall for that trick."

"Trick?"

"You—that! You're feigning ignorance so I embarrass myself! I see you holding back the S-M-I-R-K."

So then he didn't hold it back at all. The timing couldn't be worse; Rebecca had shown up with a tray, placing numerous pies on the table. "Go on," she said, "Pretend I'm not here."

This wouldn't do. Shigure covered his mouth with the back of his hand, but that only made it more obvious that he was trying to supress a smile. It'd been the same thing back when he made fun of her phobia. Shigure laughed when others suffered. "Anyway! Rebeccafern, Shigure's body is unwieldy, so he won't fit on the dining area. Is there anything we can do to remedy this?"

"Uhh..." Rebecca glanced at him, then the table. "...I guess we can eat in the living room? Is that a problem?"

"He should fit there," Stella observed. 

Then Shigure spoke up. "I'll take those."

By 'those', he meant the pies. With him carrying the tray to the living room and punting clothes out of the way, all Rebecca and Stella had to do was take the cutlery. "I hadn't really thought about it," Rebecca told her, "But he seems Japanese Japanese."

"Yes. I agree. Is that a problem? Are you racist?"

"Girl, Kou and I are also Japanese. What I mean is... well, fine, I'm actually second generation. I wasn't raised with traditional meals, if you get what I mean. From what Kou has told me, it's still pretty big there, so... I don't know... do you think eating peach pie for breakfast might bother him?"

"I don't see why it would," Stella said. "Food is food."

"I guess."

"There's no need to be aprehensive. I heard his stomach growl for hours yesterday. He'll appreciate it."

"Oh, wow."

Rebecca said that with the exact same intonation as Kou had earlier.

Shigure had come and gone for the cups while they gossiped. He must've run out of patience. Patience must've run away from him. It was then that Stella noticed he'd also stacked a tower of cushions on top of Kou, who still hid under the blanket. What was he doing? Both of them?

Thankfully, when Rebecca saw this, she cackled. "Ohh, me too! Me too!" She rolled in the air past the divider, seized a cushion as she landed, then placed it on top of Shigure's tower. By that point, it wobbled. He put another one. She put another one. Stella found this behavior appalling and worrisome, but perhaps it was a sign of the times. "Let me see if I can find something to use as a flag."

Shigure reached out for a drumstick hanging out of a box.

"Wonderful. Then..." Rebecca took off her jacket. Thus, a new monument was born: a tower of mistmatched cushions, with a poor catman as a base, and a flag composed of a drumstick and fake leather. "Ta-da! Stella, look!"

"I'm looking," she replied. "Centuries ago, that was called cruel and unusual punishment."

"Moon gravity," Shigure reminded. "It doesn't weigh."

Rebecca nodded. "Yup. Let's go eat. Kou'll get outta there once he hears us."

And they just... moved on with their lives and left Kou there. The tower tobbled. Meanwhile, Shigure and Rebecca sat on opposite ends of the coffee table. He sliced the pie for her. She poured coffee for him. Aside from ensuing pleasantries, neither talked.

Stella sat next to Shigure. Why wasn't he reacting the way he had yesterday? Rebecca basically wore underwear. Her shirt was very short, very sleeveless. But no. Nothing. Meanwhile, Stella had to activate her nuclear compartment to turbo-dry her own so there would be no drama in the morning. "I can't eat," she told Rebecca as the latter poured a third cup of coffee.

"Eh, don't be shy."

"She means it," Shigure said. "She physically can't eat."

"Ohh..." Rebecca tilted her head a bit.

Experimentally, Stella mimicked her. "How long ago were you created?" She asked. It'd give her a good frame of reference to know when catgirls with digestive systems had begun to show up. Why? Why would anyone allow a robot to eat?

"Created? You mean like, born?" Rebecca took a bite. Immediately, she placed a hand on her cheek, closing her eyes. "This is so good!"

"It is?" Shigure's reaction after tasting the pie was infuriatingly subdued. "It is."

"Yes! Sooo good! Stella, you gotta do this again. Kou, hurry up! Come taste this!"

"No," replied Kou, at last. "The world has abandoned me."

"That sounds worrisome," Stella noted.

Rebecca waved her off.

Shigure got a second slice without asking for permission. Not that he had to, but it would've been nice anyway. "Sorry about this," he told Rebecca. "I hope she didn't bother you too much."

"Not at all. Where did you get that suit, by the way? I've been looking for a Nino forever."

"Borrowed," replied Shigure.

"Looks great."

The tower fell, and the catman was buried. Neither Shigure nor Rebecca acknowledged this. "Are you good with fashion?" Asked Stella. "Could you help me pick outfits some other tiime?"

If Rebecca's eyes could've sparkled, they would've. "Ohoho..."

Kou's head sprang from the pile of cushions like a fresh sprout from soil.

All members had been assembled. Now all that was left was to convince them they required intense psychiatric attention. "For how long have you lived here?" Shigure asked Rebecca. "Are you also part of the program, or...?"

"Nah. Just felt like moving here, around... five years ago? By the way, your wife mentioned you wanted to become a catgirl."

Shigure glanced at Stella, whose ears dropped, from the corners of his eyes. "Really."

"Yup! I have juuust the right brochure for you."

"No need. Not interested."

Rebecca's ears fell, too. So they were functional. "That's... too bad..."

Stella gave her more peach pie so she'd cheer up.

Shigure said, "By the way, do you know of any freelance work available in the area? Like—" His phone rang. ":..fuck." He'd mumbled the last thing under his breath. "One moment."

He left the table, the living room, the house in order to take the call. The exact moment he talked out of the main door, Kou leaped next to his wife. He siphooned the pie. "Silly," Rebecca told him.

"Silly," Stella agreed.

Speaking of which, Shigure's speech patterns were growing agitated again, Should she...? Probably not, but she did it anyway.

Spy Mode.