First Brush - 1

Sayuri wasn’t expecting to spend the evening before starting high school searching for her runaway cat.

She’s in her loungewear, a thin shirt and short shorts, the cold air of the night pricking her bare arms and legs. While she wishes she grabbed a jacket, it didn’t even cross her mind at the time. The second she realised Mashiro had sneaked out the open window, she forgot all common sense and dashed right out the door. Now she’s sprinting up and down the block, doing her best impression of a loony bin escapee.

“Mashiro? Mashiro! Mashirooo!”

Her throat hurts, every shout ends with a short cough. Could be the early onset of a cold, but it’s more likely the fact that she’s yelling loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. She can’t help it. When the echoes of her cries die down, the silence is unsettlingly perfect. Not a rustling bush, not a tap against the pavement, not the faintest meow.

“Mashirooo! Mashiro! Mashiro…” she chokes out. As soon as she found the bathroom empty, Sayuri had a feeling that her cat was lost. Granted, it was just a feeling back then, a lonely idea floating on the stormy sea of her thoughts. Now, it’s sunk so deep that it’s become an undeniable truth.

Tired, scared, frustrated, she collapses on a bench in the middle of the ward’s only park. A quiet pond gleams in the distance, moonlight spilling onto a web of empty alleys. Slowly, she shifts into a seated crouch, hugging her knees to her chin. A light sob escapes her lips, but no one can hear her snivelling. She’s all alone. Always has and always will be.

It’s like she has a curse: growing up, she’s never kept a friend for more than a year. Things would be great in the beginning: they’d study together, go out after school, sleep over at each other’s, even go on daytrips to the beach. But then, without any warning, something would come up.

Playoffs are next month and we really wanna make it to regionals this year.

My parents are super busy with work, so I gotta babysit my baby sis. Sorry…

Wish I could hang, but cram school’s really kicking my ass. Maybe another time?

There would never be another time. When the twelve months elapsed, their friendship would fizzle out like a candle that burnt all its wax.

Only her flame ever went out, though. Every other friend would survive the busy period, then stick around long after that. She didn’t think much of it at first, but as the pattern kept repeating over and over again, one thing became painfully clear: Sayuri was always the one left behind. She must've been the only one who did something wrong.

A thin meow sounds behind her. Sayuri doesn’t even flinch. The way she’s feeling, her mind has to be playing tricks on her, making her hear things. But when the same meow rings closer now, she tunes her ears. The grass swishes, the ground crinkling under the weight of footsteps. Cautiously, she turns around.

“Meow!”

Chocolate point coat, large blue eyes, and a pink collar with a bow. Surprise, then relief, then tears of joy. Mashiro calmly sits in the arms of a hooded stranger – a girl, judging by the stockinged legs poking out from under the thick jumper. Impassively, she pads over to the bench, taking a seat on the opposite ends. Once she realises Mashiro’s all but biting to be let go, she makes a show out of releasing her. Free at last, she struts onto Sayuri’s lap, then bumps her head against her owner’s neck, as if she’s not just given her the scare of a lifetime.

Not that Sayuri could care less. Reunited with her beloved cat, she wants nothing more than to hold her tight, cling onto the warmth of her fur, wash away her doubts. But she doesn’t go too far. A part of her is a little self-conscious about cuddling Mashiro when someone is watching. The girl, however, chuckles. She’s been watching all along.

“Go ahead,” she says. “I won’t judge. There’s no such thing as too much love.”

“I just – I can’t believe someone found her. Heck, I can’t believe you found me too in the same night. It must be some kind of miracle.”

The girl rubs her nose. In the corner of her eye, Sayuri sees something twitching beneath her hood. “Yeah, heh. What are the odds, am I right?” She clears the nervousness from her throat. “Anyway, what’s her name?”

“Mashiro.”

“Mashiro… Not really pure white, though, is she?”

“She is, by day. But by night, she puts on a mask and a pair of fuzzy mittens, and she becomes Kuroha! Fighter of mice, squirrels and socks!”

The girl snorts, before breaking out into a soft, tinkling giggle. Sayuri’s lips spread into a thin smile. It’s been a while since she made someone this giddy with her cringy humour. She’s really missed hearing someone laugh with, instead of at her.

“I should’ve known,” the girl says, heaving for breath. “Every ragdoll owner is at least as silly as their cat, if not more.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It can be a bit of both, I suppose. Some people will find it charming; others will think it’s stupid.”

“Which one of them are you?”

The girl opens her mouth, but for a long second, nothing comes out. Sayuri sneaks a peek her way. Her hood has peeled back slightly, revealing flushing, freckled cheeks. In turn, Sayuri can’t help blushing a little herself.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the girl mutters at last. “You don’t laugh like that at something you don’t really like, dummy.”

There comes a hmph, then silence, though far from cold and awkwardness, a warm comfort hangs in the air between them. Idly, Sayuri runs a hand down Mashiro’s back, her cat’s chest rumbling with a deep purr. Going back through her memories, she can count one, maybe two times she’s felt this at ease, neither of which are too recent or involve sitting next to a total stranger. But even if she would love to savour this moment a while longer, she can’t help herself. Much as she enjoys the quiet, she enjoys talking to the girl a lot more.

“So, umm, uhh…” Of course, that’s easier said than done. Holding conversations, she’s never had trouble with. But initiating them has always been the bane of her social life.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Now it’s Sayuri’s turn to chuckle. “A bit, yeah. I guess I wanted to say something, but I didn’t find anything worth saying.”

“…Wow. Just putting it all out there, huh?”

“Well, I suppose I could’ve played it cool, but you already said you liked silly. And I'm silly enough that I don’t really gain anything from pretending I’m not. Might as well own it, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s fair enough, yeah.”

She lowers her gaze to the ground, twiddling her thumbs behind the cover of her oversized sleeves. Though she doesn’t look upset, that doesn’t stop Sayuri from wondering if she’s too blame for the sudden change in mood. That sort of thing tends to happen when she runs her mouth without any filter, after all. She strikes a nerve she didn’t even know was there, and the wound never scabs. It stays bleeding forever, until there’s nothing left to bleed.

But before Sayuri can ask the girl if she’s okay, her phone buzzes. Once, then thrice, then one more time. Her heart sinks down, then past her stomach. She doesn’t even need to check the texts to know who they’re from and what they’re saying. But that doesn’t mean she’s any more prepared to read them, least of all after missing no less than six calls.

Dad: Where are you???

Dad: The front door was wide open, the bathroom was a mess, and it’s like a typhoon rampaged through the living room. I was seriously thinking of calling the police, thinking we’ve been robbed!

Dad: Did your cat do all of this?

Dad: Please call me, Sayuri… I’m really worried about you…

“Are you doing all right?” the girl asks. “You look like you’ve just read that the world is ending.”

“You’re not too far off, actually.”

“I take it you need to dash home?”

“If I don’t wanna be homeless for all of high school, yeah.”

Sayuri peels herself off the bench with all the speed and enthusiasm of a prisoner marching to the gallows. Her father’s concern won’t make the lecture she’ll receive any shorter – if anything, it’ll have the opposite effect. Of course, she knew that was coming all along; she just had more pressing things to fret about at the time. And once the phone calls started pouring in, she hoped that ignoring them will just make that particular problem go away, drown in the bigger problem’s shadow.

Alas, that’s not the situation she’s in right now. Her apprehension is written so clearly on her face that the girl can’t possibly miss it. “Well then,” she says. “I guess I won’t keep you any longer. Good luck.”

“Thanks. And… sorry.”

No reply. The girl raises her hand, somewhere between a wave goodbye, and a ‘don’t mention it’, then turns around and starts down the alley. Sayuri heads the other way, stumbling backwards with slow, clumsy steps, before finally turning around as well.

Sorry? That was so lame. What was she even sorry about, cutting their talk short? That much was obvious – obvious enough that she wouldn’t be thinking twice about it now, let alone regret her sparse choice of words. In truth, she was apologising not because of how their meeting ended, bur rather how she ended up leaving.

Sayuri’s sluggish footsteps draw to a full stop. She doesn’t know anything about the girl, she realises. Not her likes, not her quirks, not her face, not even her name. And worst of all, she’ll probably never have a way to learn any of them. Not if she keeps walking away.

So she doesn’t. She spins on her heels, picking up the pace stride by stride, until she’s gone from an aimless amble to a full on sprint. It’s not too long before she catches up to the girl, the sound of Sayuri’s ragged breath and shuffling slippers drawing her attention. But her reaction is too slow to prevent the shock.

“Wait!” Sayuri shouts, reaching for the girl’s hand.

“Nyah!”

The girl stiffens up. She jerks her arm away, quickly, violently, then leaps back like her ankles were spring-loaded. Once landed, she takes a deep bow, cushioning for her fall. When she straightens back up, fast, sudden, her hood blows off.

“Woah,” is all Sayuri can mumble in the moment. Soft features, pearly skin, eyes big and blue like the summer sky, and cream blonde hair that looks impossibly silky. The roots have long grown out, but the segue to her natural shade – a warm, chestnut brown – is all but seamless. And right at the top of her head, where the colour is deepest, she sees something that leaves her mouth agape.

“Stupid d-d-dummy!” the girl stutters out, before taking off into the night, leaving Sayuri with a single question on her mind.

Were those cat ears?