Catnip(v.2) - Prelude

Sayuri’s been scratching a rash into her arm for the past five minutes. Waiting by the school gate is nerve-racking, every errant gaze flung her way a new student to question her existence. Is she waiting for someone? She is, but they can’t tell how long she’s sat there, whether she’s clinging to the hope she’s not been stood up, or if she’s just fidgety. As far as they’re aware, the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but they can’t know that for sure. So, they toss her a look. Sneak in a smile, or a chuckle or a roll of the eyes too, just so she knows they’re thinking about her. Judging her.

After hesitating to peek behind her all this time, lest Asami’s actually coming and she ends up grinning like an idiot at her arrival, she turns around and does just that. If she was strolling before, noticing Sayuri noticing her, Asami picks up the pace.

“Sorry for being late,” she says with the slightest bow. “I ran into a teacher on my way out the bathroom, and she asked if I could help her carry some books back to the lounge.”

“No worries, I wasn’t here for too long.” Though it sure felt like a small eternity. “All good?”

Asami tugs her bucket hat further down her head, then gives her the thumbs up. “All good. Let’s go.”

Though they’ve been going home together for a week now, Sayuri still hasn’t gotten used to seeing Asami with her cat off. Most of that disconnect comes from inertia: eight hours of pointy ears flicking in your face will make everyone miss them a little when they’re gone. There’s a touch of empathy there too. When Asami described the process of wrapping her tail around her hips, the only thing Sayuri could think about was when she had to wear a corset for a play in middle school. Far from a pleasant memory, and further still from a pleasant feeling. And with summer fast approaching, she doesn’t even want to imagine how it’ll be braving the scorching afternoons wearing a fluffy, furry belt.

But beyond her appearance, there’s another thing that changes whenever Asami’s all ‘tucked in’.

They end up having to rush down the station’s stairs, dodging the oncoming flow of commuters, only for the train doors to shut the moment they step onto the platform. Sayuri puffs out a long breath, deflating like a popped balloon. It’s nothing too bad, she’s not rushing home or anything like that, but she’s always been a bit dramatic about minor inconveniences. Especially when the timing is this imperfect.

Of course, Asami doesn’t know that. Gently, she taps Sayuri on the shoulder. “There, there, it’ll be okay. The next one’s in five minutes.”

“Weh…”

“Pfft, baby. D’you want a coke or something to cheer you up?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m not actually upset.”

“But you can always be a little happier. C’mon. It’s my treat.”

Half-amused, half-confused, Sayuri acquiesces with a nod. On the one hand, she can’t help snickering at a corny line like that; especially when it’s Asami saying it. She’s probably the last person in the world who would quip like that, and honestly – Sayuri’s all for it. If all it takes to unlock Asami’s silliness is a bit of aesthetic sleight of hand, then so be it.

But on the other hand, Sayuri can’t help feeling like that’s all this is: a disguise. She watches Asami pad over to the vending machine, one hand always fidgeting with her hair, or fixing her tail tighter under her skirt. One second she’s focused on inserting the coins and tapping the buttons, the other she’s glancing around, checking everyone out. When they don’t seem to notice anything off, relief curls the corner of her lips. She’s fooled them.

Is that her goal? Is she more comfortable when she looks like a normal girl, or when everyone else thinks that’s who she really is?

Normal. Sayuri shakes that notion out of her head. She doesn’t like it, never has, and it’s a silly to think about –

Cold, damp metal against the back of her neck. She flinches, then whimpers out like a leaky kettle. Asami replies with a light tinkle of laughter.

“Jeez. And I thought I was jumpy.”

The thermal shock elapsing with a shiver, Sayuri lobs a glare Asami’s way. But whatever snarky comeback she had prepared swiftly dies on her tongue. It feels strange to remark on her feline traits when she looks just like every other girl from their class – albeit with a funnier fashion style.

So she eats her words and chuckles instead.