My Girlfriend Turned Catgirl (Part 2)

I practised what I preach. 

My philosophy was what I liked to describe as a grounded, cynical attitude. 

People were not worth trusting. Everything they said, thought, and acted was intentional. To meet their self-interests and other egoistical needs. 

They simply were not worth the time and trouble to be near. 

That was the reason why I decided to be a zookeeper. 

Animals did not have these intricacies and complexities. 

While they did act on primitive, selfish interests, they were one-dimensional. 

The business of survival. That was enough justification for their behaviour. 

Animals did not lie. For a more backstabbing, hypocritical, sanctimonious, insincere, dishonest creature, look no further than humans. 

Animals did not crave material things. They knew nothing of envy or of narcissism.

They had no religion. They did not wage war. They did not commit acts of terrible cruelty. They lived in harmony with their environment.

Animals lead less complicated lives. No analysis, criticism, or overthinking. 

Such was the kind of life I found gratifying and wanted to share.

I have been a zookeeper for most of my life. My parents owned and worked at zoos. 

It was my backyard and playground growing up.

I developed the essential skills necessary to be a good zookeeper early. 

Animals do not tend to show signs of sickness. 

In the wild, a sick-looking animal was a sign of weakness. They would be more prone to predators and attack.

So, we zookeepers must be observant when interacting with animals. Any irregularities in their behaviour, physical condition or routine could be a sign of injury or sickness. Injury or sickness that may have manifested for a long time.

I put my observational skills to the test this past month. 

Yurime Kyoharu. 

She made me feel like I was Charles Darwin on the Galapagos Islands. 

The whole ordeal was as if I was observing a new species of humans. 

She was that different.

For the first week, I thought Kyoharu was a bit of a ditz. A daydreamer. 

She would zone out, stare at the windows, and blink at random intervals during lessons. 

I soon realised she was only watching the birds spread their wings and perch on trees. 

She was serious, too. I would hear her mumble the characteristics, colours, and the routines of frequent birds under her breath.

Birdwatching was a hobby for middle-aged men and retirees.

She was strange. So strange. 

What was a high school girl trying to do memorising all the birds around the school? 

I could not offer a reasonable conclusion from my observations. I could not even decipher the motivation behind or the egotistical fulfilment she received from birdwatching. 

I felt quite aggravated about this. 

She challenged my philosophy. There was an outlier, an anomaly in my belief system, and I could not settle for it. 

For the second week, I changed my approach. 

Instead of observing her actions, I observed her reactions.

School life kicked into gear this week. We passed the phase reviewing last year's materials. Our teachers quickly introduced new content. 

There were a couple of short assignments and a quiz to complete. One could consider it a busy week. Nothing good study habits or work ethic cannot overcome. 

But Kyoharu had audibly yelped and jumped out of her seat we received our quizzes back.

That garnered a wave of two-faced chuckles from the class and another pretentious motivational speech from Head Teacher Fukami. 

Her reactions did not surprise me too much. 

Kyoharu was not a good student. 

She was always napping if she was not birdwatching. 

A good napper at that.

She had a drowsy switch that turned on and off as she willed. 

She would stare at the board with her chin propped on her palm. Or be writing notes intently with her head bowed low. 

I lost count of the number of times where she dissolved into her table into a quick slumber, from any position. 

Was she ever worried that the pencil would stab her in the eye if she kept collapsing like that? 

I thought she suffered from a chronic condition, but based on the context and the frequency, it quickly became obvious she napped as she liked. 

With her dramatic reaction at her poor quiz results, I thought she was provoking some laughter to inflate her self-esteem. 

It was not anything like that. 

The next few days of school of that week, the strong-willed Kyoharu became a frightened little kitten. 

She was on teeters every lesson. Perking nervously at the blackboard. Hurriedly jotting down notes. 

Birds still distracted her, but there were no naps anymore. 

Quite an amusing and inspiring sight, if it had not provoked me. My philosophy was overturned once again. 

She returned to lazing about after another day, so I changed my approach once again. 

For weeks three and four, I focused on the details. 

Psychology, body language, and the subconscious were powerful mechanisms. 

Much of the human communication was uncontrollable in the form of micro-actions and micro-expressions regulated by the subconscious mind. 

I noted several details down in my heart. 

1. Kyoharu did not like water. Her deskmate once knocked down her bottle and doused her whole skirt. I could tell Kyoharu was holding in her tears, presumably because that meant more water. 

2. Kyoharu was strangely energetic and flexible for a napper. She was one of those people who refused to take the stairs one step at a time. I often caught her taking three or even four at once. 

3. Kyoharu seemed aloof and solitary, but she was quite extraverted. She was good at conversations because she was a good listener. She was very pleasant to talk to as long as she remained interested and curious on what you have to say. 

She was strange. No pretence. No filter. 

I looked up towards the blackboard for the date. 

May 1st. 

Spring was in full bloom. 

Head Teacher Fukami even wrote a message for us. 

New month. New me. Study hard.

I turned my attention back to Kyoharu. She was packing her belongings. 

The dismissal bell rang a few minutes ago. We were usually the last to leave. 

She really was different from other people. 

The rest of class always left early to hang out in Internet cafes or shop at the mall. 

It has been one month since April. 

The entrance ceremony for Year 2. Since I first met Kyoharu.

I had one month of field observations, but I still did not know what wavelength she was on. 

My philosophy — should I leave it for her to challenge it like this? 

I was slipping into a conundrum when Kyoharu's sparkling round eyes suddenly appeared in front of me. 

I flinched. Taken aback. I did not even hear her footsteps. 

What did she want? 

I vowed to stray far away from human interaction, but at the same time, I was philosophically obsessed with finding out her intentions.

I could not force myself to leave, so I pursued my lips and stared down at her. 

Kyoharu was much more comfortable with the staring contest. 

I did not like it, but that meant I was up for talks first.

I managed to pry my gaze away and asked in a low voice. 

"Is there anything, Kyoharu-san?" 

Why was she so abrupt? 

Kyoharu did not answer for a long time. 

I turned back into her eyes that glinted with inquisitiveness. 

They reminded me of someone... something. 

I was unable to draw away from them until Kyoharu giggled.

"Kazumio-kun. You have a cute sneeze. Can I be your girlfriend?"

Strange. She was undoubtedly strange.

A confession. A relationship. 

Who in the right mind would confess to someone like me? 

A great philosophical dilemma. That was a question someone like Socrates and Confucius could only answer. 

I glanced outside the open window.

Warm sunlight that dappled one's skin. Crisp breeze that fluttered one's hair. 

Spring was the season of new beginnings, was it not? 

New month. New me.

Head Teacher Fukami was right about something for once.

I would like to continue studying her: why she was different from other people. 

I think it would be okay to break my philosophy for her.