Chapter 18: The Cat’s Out

The school grounds had transformed.

Colorful streamers danced in the breeze. The hum of excited voices filled the air as students, parents, and even alumni wandered between the vibrant stalls. Every inch of the courtyard pulsed with life—smells of fried treats, bursts of laughter, and the rhythmic beat of festival music.

Behind one of the booths labeled Tako Tako Nyan~! stood Yaso.

Or rather… a very reluctant Yaso, in a black apron over the school uniform, fluffy gray cat ears perched on his head, and a matching tail pinned to the back. A small bell dangled from a thin ribbon at his collar. His face, however, remained stoic—unchanged, as if none of this were happening.

"Yaso-kun! Smile! You’re the face of our booth!” Daichi shouted cheerfully, handing over a tray of freshly made takoyaki. “C’mon, Sunohara-chan, tell him!”

Sunohara, arms crossed, shot him a deadpan glare. “First, stop calling me that. Second, I told you he’d look miserable.”

Yaso muttered under his breath, “I told you I didn't want to wear this…”

“But you did,” Daichi grinned, “and you look adorable—our very own neko-mascot!”

Sunohara rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person who thinks this is a marketing strategy.”

“Hey, hey, people are lining up already!” Daichi said, pointing.

Indeed, a small crowd had gathered, partially for the takoyaki, partially—undeniably—for the sight of the tall, stone-faced Yaso dressed as a cat.

He kept his gaze straight ahead, arms stiff at his sides as he greeted customers. Every “Irasshaimase” sounded like a reluctant whisper, but somehow… it was charming in its own awkward way.

Then came a familiar voice, light and teasing, from behind the crowd.

“Well, well…”

Yaso turned his head slowly.

There she stood—Hoshiko-sensei. Her casual jacket fluttered slightly in the breeze, and she had a paper fan in hand, half-covering her smile. Her eyes twinkled with unmistakable amusement as she took in the sight before her.

“You look adorable in that outfit,” she said, stifling a laugh behind her fan.

Yaso blinked, then narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and muttered, “…I didn’t want to wear it. I was forced.”

She tilted her head playfully. “Mm-hmm. That’s exactly what someone who secretly enjoys it would say.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t,” she replied with exaggerated understanding, still chuckling.

Sunohara gave her a little nod in greeting, while Daichi beamed proudly. “See, Sensei? I told you the costume was genius!”

“Truly visionary,” she said dryly, though her tone remained warm.

Hoshiko lingered for a moment longer before buying a serving of takoyaki. As she turned to leave, she gave Yaso one last sidelong glance. “Keep up the good work, Neko-kun.”

The nickname made Daichi snort with laughter, and even Sunohara smirked.

Yaso, meanwhile, stood frozen, a faint shade of pink threatening to rise to his cheeks.

By midday, the booth was a hit. Despite his reluctance, Yaso had adapted. Maybe it was the constant stream of people distracting him, or the way Daichi kept hyping him up like a game show host, or Sunohara's subtle but efficient management keeping everything running smoothly.

They were, surprisingly, a good team.

At one point, a small child tugged at Yaso’s apron and asked, “Mister kitty, can I have one with extra sauce?”

He bent down silently, handed her the requested order, and gave a small nod.

“Thank you, kitty-san!”

He didn’t respond—but his expression softened.

As the day began to wind down and the rush faded, the trio finally got a moment to breathe.

Daichi leaned back on a crate, sighing in satisfaction. “See? What did I say? Best. Festival. Ever.”

Sunohara wiped sweat from her brow. “It would’ve been better if someone hadn’t burned three trays.”

“That was one time!”

“You mean three times.”

Yaso sat on the edge of the booth, pulling off the ears at last. He stared at them in his hands, quiet for a moment.

Daichi nudged him. “Admit it. You had fun.”

Yaso didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said, quietly, “...It wasn’t the worst.”

Sunohara blinked in surprise.

Daichi looked smug. “From Yaso-kun, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

Yaso rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Somewhere in the crowd, the sound of laughter and music continued, but here at the booth, under the fading light of the afternoon, it felt… comfortable.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a small moment of peace between unlikely friends.

And as Yaso glanced at the now-crumpled cat ears beside him, he thought—without really meaning to—that he’d remember this day for a long time.

Not just because of the outfit.

But because of something else that was beginning to stir inside him—something he was starting to understand.

Even if he still didn’t want to say it aloud.