Catnip(v.2) - 1

Fleeing the miasma of pit stains and cheap perfume, Sayuri and Asami get off the train. Though Sayuri’s home is further into Meguro City’s downtown, her father asked if she could swing by the grocery store on her way back, fill up the gaps in their pantry. Normally, she would’ve shopped at the Seven-Eleven right by her stop, but today’s different: she’s craving sweets. And with the FamilyMart by the river boasting a far more impressive selection than her dingy konbini, she figured it’s worth the detour. Asami’s prolonged company notwithstanding, of course.

“Are you seriously going to walk an extra mile home just to get your hands on some fancy chocolate?” Asami asks, the sliding doors opening and closing behind her.

“Yes."

"Why?

"I’ll probably need the extra workout, if I’m being honest with. Those things, they pack a pretty calorie.”

“…O-kay?”

“What? Don’t look at me like that.”

Asami smirks. “Like what?”

“Like I’m being weird about this and you’re enjoying it!”

“But you are weird about it and I am enjoying it. Though probably not as much as you’d enjoy –” she plucks a bag off a shelf “– liquorice gummy bears? God, tyre rubber sounds better than this.”

Sayuri lifts a finger as if to raise an objection, though ultimately decides against it. It’s normal for people to have different tastes. It’s also normal for them to be objectively wrong about them, but that’s besides the point.

“All right, then what’s your favourite, Ms Picky?”

Asami pauses, idly scratching her cheek. It’s not exactly the type of question one has to ponder too deeply about, though she still hesitates for a good while before giving an answer. “I don’t have one, really.”

“I’m not buying that. What’s the go-to in your snack bowl? The one dessert you’d eat a plate full of salt for?”

“I’m not a huge fan of sweets in general, actually.”

“O-kay? Who’s the weird one now, huh?” Sayuri teases, though he lighthearted jab seems to misfire and strike a nerve instead.

“I guess it is weird, isn’t it?” Asami muses out loud. Her chin dips, her finger pensively tracing along the price tags.

“I – didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just –” she takes a deep breath “– it’s not like I hate sugar, so much as I literally can’t digest it. I remember back when my mum made me a cake for my third birthday. On top of it tasting like wet cardboard, I ended up having to spend the night in the ER because my stomach hurt so bad after only a single slice.”

The lights buzz overhead, the tills ding faraway. For a while, there’s nothing but background noise filling the empty space between them. Asami’s the first to recognise how uncomfortable this all is.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That was a bit of a trauma dump, wasn’t it?”

Nervous, Sayuri rubs her elbow. Much as she wants to ease the tension, there’s not much she can think of saying right now, not much she wants to risk saying. But all the same, she can’t stay silent and steep into the awkwardness forever.

“Don’t worry, i-it’s fine. If anything, I took an innocent joke a little too far.”

“Well, it’s not like you could’ve known.”

“Right…” Subtly, she scans the aisle, hoping to find something, anything to hook a new conversation into. But as she glosses over tea biscuits, caramel popcorn and pocky packs, a stray idea pops into her head. “What about savoury snacks?”

“Oh, mmm… I like some of those. If I get peckish while drawing or doing homework, I usually pop open a tube of Pringles. Can’t have too many of them in one sitting, though; carbs make me super bloated.” Asami sighs. “Honestly, I really wish there was something that was all the flavour of crisps with none of the potatoes.”

Sayuri lifts her gaze off the floor. A hint of joy tickles her cheeks. “I think I know something just like that.”

With redoubled energy, she starts towards the far end of the store, Asami apprehensively keeping pace behind her. Past the fridges and freezers, the fruits and veggies, the baking products, household supplies and magazines, there lies a small section tucked in an unlit corner behind a support pillar. The world foods ‘aisle’: three dusty shelves that look like they haven’t been touched since they were first set up.

But that just means stock will never be an issue. Sayuri leans closer, carefully perusing each and every row, before letting out a contented snicker. Proudly, she plucks out a tiny, nondescript bag, and shoves it into Asami’s face.

Her brows weave a puzzled frown. “What are these, again?”

“Pork rinds!”

“Thanks, I thought the label was a lie.”

“Oh, right. Uhh, I’m not too sure about it. I think it’s roasted pork belly?”

“It’s actually just the skin,” comes a salutary explanation from behind. They turn around to see a girl close to, but not quite their age with a tray hanging from her neck. “Wanna try some?”

Sayuri’s nose wrinkles. Whilst she’s read about pork rinds, the picture she’s seen made them look far more appetising than the giant deep-fried toenails strewn before her. Nevertheless, it’s not her that needs to like them, it’s Asami. And sneaking a peek at her friend, she finds her mouth all but watering.

Curious, she picks one up and gives it a couple precautionary sniffs, before sinking her teeth into it. If the sight of them was good, the taste is enough to steal a pleased moan out of her, and leave her craving more. She reaches out for another, only to shyly retreat her hand. One sample per customer.

The girl titters. “Please, take as many as you like. Not sure if you can tell but they’re hardly our most popular product.”

Asami doesn’t wait to be told twice. She loads up a fistful of the little fatty bits, and by the time Sayuri’s done with her shopping, and they’re strolling down the street again, she’s still not done chowing through her pile. Though she’s stayed quiet while eating – gluttony yet to override her manners – Sayuri hasn’t minded this particular stretch of silence. If nothing else, it’s allowed her to properly savour a palette of expressions that rarely streak across Asami’s face: pure and unadulterated satisfaction.

She tries to contain it, but eventually she can’t help a smile. It’s a cosy feeling, making someone else happy, but knowing Asami and her usual sullen disposition, it’s so much more of a reward. After all, lifting someone’s spirits isn’t often the hard part; rather, it’s getting them to share the side of them that’s not afraid to beam.

But much as she’d want to stretch this moment to eternity, all good things eventually come to an end. Before long, they’re nearing the last corner before they have to split paths. Finally finished, Asami’s now busy salvaging the bits of salt and seasoning still clinging to her palms.

“Looks like you really liked them, huh?” Sayuri asks.

Asami blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “...Yeah. They were so good. I’m probably gonna be the only reason why they’ll keep restocking them.”

“Glad to hear you’re supporting your local business.”

“It’s a nationwide chain.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Touche.”

They stop. The crosswalk light is blinking, but Asami doesn’t feel like breaking into a jog just to gain an extra seconds. She’s happy to wait, and Sayuri’s happy to keep her company. Especially that now that the sun’s finally sliding out the clouds, and she gets to notice the gleaming streak on Asami’s cheek.

“You’ve got something…”

“Huh? Where?”

“There.”

“Did I get it?”

“No a little more…”

“Now?”

“Tsk, here.”

She pulls out her handkerchief, then gently dabs it on Asami’s flushed skin. It’s – soft. So soft that she feels her own skin tingle with an unfamiliar frisson, her tongue drying, her chest suddenly tight. The closeness between them is nice, almost intoxicating, and it doesn’t help that Asami’s not looking her in the eyes. She’s not able to. Her embarrassment is contagious, but far from compounding Sayuri’s growing anxiety, it seems to salve it. Help it blossom into a strange, yet not unwelcome kind of confidence.

“Boop,” she says, playfully tapping Asami’s nose.

In turn, Asami chews on her lip, pearly canines poking out, then gives Sayuri’s finger a long and affectionate lick.

Sayuri cringes.

Asami cringes back.

They stare at each other for one endless second, shock meeting ashamed fear.

The light chirps green behind Asami. She turns around without a word, without a wave, without a glance back. Sayuri doesn’t get a chance to stop her before she dashes off, but maybe that’s for the better. If she did, she probably wouldn’t have managed to hide her disgust.