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Every morning, Gojo-cat wakes with the rising of the sun and stretches out on his plush little tuffet to soak in the warmth of the first few rays. He stays there for a little while before moving on to groom his fur, flattening down the tufts near his ears that have become wildly out of place during the night. After this, at around six o’clock, his tummy will rumble and notify him that it’s time to bother his humans. They don’t have to work until nine, but such time constraints have never bothered him. It’s not like they’re able to ignore him once he starts wailing. He’ll sit outside of their bedroom door and pat his paws against the wood, growing louder and louder until he hears tired groaning from inside. Once they’re awake, he’ll open his mouth and start howling for their attention, until they finally get out of bed and open the door. It’s usually the female that greets him, looking dishevelled and slightly annoyed. Luckily, it only takes a flick of his fluffy tail and a gentle meow to quell her irritation and have her back under his paw. She’ll traipse to the kitchen, Gojo-cat trotting along beside her, and fill his bowl with his favourite; tinned crab, imported from Devon, England—which he likes best because it certainly isn’t intended for cats—and torn-up pieces of freshly-baked croissants, which also happen to be his humans’ breakfast. When he’s served, he leaves the female to go about her morning business, happy to eat his fill and return to his tuffet for a satiated snooze.
Ah, it’s a hard life.
The humans are out of the house by eight-thirty, leaving Gojo-cat to mooch around like he owns the place. Which he does, really, he owns everything in the house, including the humans. They are easy to manipulate, all he has to do to get his way is turn his baby-blues towards them and give a soft mewl, but it’s made easier still due to the fact Gojo-cat is one of the few felines in the world that can actually understand them. The human language took a few months to figure out, but it’s simple enough. Uncultured grunts and whines, far from the superior language of his own kind. With the knowledge he possesses, life is easy. Good food when he demands it, a luxurious bed, a fire-place for him to settle in front of in the evening. His comfortable daily routine runs as smoothly as clockwork, and Gojo-cat is left pampered and plump by it.
It’s unsurprising that one day, it all becomes a little boring.
On an idle Wednesday when the humans are out at work, Gojo-cat decides to break his daily routine and try for a little adventure. It’s not often that he heads out of the house, finding it far too grubby and filled with creepy-crawlies for his liking, but the sun is shining and he feels it might be a nice change to wiggle his toes in the grass. He pushes through the cat-flap and totters out onto the patio, squinting up at the clear blue sky above him. It’s pleasantly warm and quiet, with only the twittering of a few birds in the trees to be heard. Gojo-cat pads out onto the grass and takes a look up into the trees, narrowing his eyes as he tries to locate the birds. He spots a couple sitting atop a bird-bath and makes a note to kick up a fuss later because how dare his humans cater to such filthy creatures in his garden. For now, he’ll just chase them off and get them to leave him in peace. He bounds up onto the garden bench and scrabbles up onto the top of the fence at the end of the garden. His claws dig into the old wood as he perches daintily atop the panel, glaring at the birds fluffing themselves up in the bird-bath. Little bastards.
Gojo-cat is about to pounce down onto them when another, much louder laughing sound drags his attention away. It comes from the other side of the fence, and when Gojo-cat turns his head to peer over the other side, he is surprised at what he finds. Instead of lush, neatly-trimmed grass and well-tended flower-beds, there is a dirty, narrow concrete path covered in cigarette butts. The back-end of an apartment building is crammed closely to the other side of the fence, allowing Gojo-cat to peer into the window of the ground floor flat. The source of the laughing seems to have come from the room—the kitchen—he’s looking into. It’s a much smaller room than he’s used to, but it’s neat and clean and there are touches of life all around. Crayon drawings on the fridge, photographs taped to the walls, toys left on the floor. There are two people standing at the kitchen sink, a man and a woman, chortling noisily. The man, a great big beast of a man at that, is standing behind the woman, arms wrapped around her waist and face buried in her shoulder. She’s got one arm raised, hand buried in his hair, staring fondly at him. Gojo-cat finds himself watching them for a little while, interested in the tender way they are holding one another. It’s not something he’s seen of his own humans for quite some time, and it’s sweet to watch.
“I love you,” the man murmurs, audible through the crack in the window. He kisses her cheek and slips his arms away from her waist.
She pecks him on the tip of his nose and smiles brightly. “I love you too, Toji. Now go and get Megumi ready for school! You’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get him sorted.”
Gojo-cat tilts his head and purrs softly at the scene, watching as they move out of the kitchen into another room. He didn’t realise there was a little family living so close to him. Perhaps watching their daily lives will amuse him and stave off the boredom for a little while. Maybe next time he can slip through their window and take a look around, mewl for some fuss and food. He licks his paw and takes off over the fence, back to his own domain.
Time passes, and Gojo-cat continues watching the family next door. He learns that the father is called Toji, the mother, Ami, and the son, Megumi. They are a tight-knit bunch, very supportive of one another and always bustling around doing something. There’s beach trips, finger-painting sessions, dancing in the kitchen; their house is one full of love and happiness, and Gojo-cat enjoys observing their lives from the other side of the fence.
Thus, it comes as a shock when one day he finds Toji sitting alone at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey in his hand, crying silently. It’s rare to see anyone in the Fushiguro household crying, let alone Toji. Stranger still that no-one is rushing to comfort him. Gojo-cat watches him for a little while, waiting to see if another member of the family comes to join him, but no-one arrives. Eventually, he grows bored of waiting around and decides to try and take a peep around the rest of the property. He tiptoes along the top of the fence and pads around to the other side of the apartment, leaping over onto the windowsill of one of the bedrooms. It’s not often he bothers venturing to any other window, preferring the vibrant activity of the kitchen to anywhere else, but today he finds something more interesting through the glass exposing the bedroom of Fushiguro Megumi.
The little boy is sitting on his bed, holding a stuffed animal close to his chest. It’s a cute, fluffy plushie of a dog—Gojo-cat notes with disdain—one that the family brought back with them from a trip to the beach. Much like his father, Megumi is crying softly. Gojo-cat cannot see his tears, for he has buried his face in the fluff of the soft-toy, but he can see his small shoulders trembling and hear him sniffling. It’s a sad sight to witness, and Gojo-cat doesn’t know what could be causing such misery in a once-happy house.
He finds out exactly what around a week later.
A small butsudan has appeared in the corner of the living room, adorned with candles and an array of purple and white flowers. In the centre, sits a memorial tablet displaying the familiar image of Fushiguro Ami. An incense stick burns slowly in front of the picture and the smoke spirals in wisps around her pretty face. Gojo-cat mewls softly at the little shrine from the windowsill and, for the first time, decides to drop down into the room from the open window. He pads across the wooden floor and takes a seat in front of the shrine, peering up at the picture. His humans have a similar altar in their home, devoted to the ancestors that have passed, so he now understands the reason for such misery in the Fushiguro home with the presence of this butsudan.
Fushiguro Ami is dead.
Gojo-cat meows softly and sets his paw on the edge of the altar shelf. He doesn’t know if this is appropriate in human terms, but he rubs the edge of his jaw up against the wood, wishing the dead woman a pleasant and peaceful afterlife. A quiet sound from the doorway drags Gojo-cat’s attention away from the shrine, and he totters around to find Megumi peering down at him. He sits back and tilts his chin up, meowing at the little boy. Megumi frowns and crouches down, going slowly as if he’s trying not to scare Gojo-cat away.
“You’re that cat,” he mumbles, taking a seat on the floor. He crosses his legs and reaches out to gently touch Gojo-cat’s head. “I’ve seen you outside the house a lot.”
The little boy scratches behind Gojo-cat’s ears in a manner that makes him purr. Megumi smiles at the sound and continues petting him.
“I wondered if I could get you to come inside one day. It always looked like you were watching us,” he continues. “My mum used to say that you could understand us. That you watched us like a television show. Silly though, isn’t it?” Megumi laughs softly and shakes his head. His smile fades as he looks to the side, at the shrine. “Silly.”
Gojo-cat watches as his eyes start to water and mewls loudly. He doesn’t like to see the little chap upset and he wants to comfort him as best he can. The cat clambers up onto Megumi’s lap and paws at his tummy, keeping his claws retracted to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally nick him or ruin his t-shirt. Megumi peers down at him and sniffles, returning to petting him softly. He’s very gentle in the way he treats Gojo-cat, far different from some of the unpleasant, heavy-handed visitors his humans have over sometimes.
“You should have come in back then. She would have l-liked you,” Megumi hiccups, clearly trying not to cry. His efforts are wasted and tears start trickling down his cheeks. “I wish she was still here.”
He starts openly sobbing then, so Gojo-cat pushes up and nuzzles against his cheek, smearing some of the tears across his cheek. This poor little boy. What a terrible thing to lose a mother so young. Gojo-cat meows and purrs, trying to soothe him in the only way he really can. Megumi wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his fur. Gojo-cat finds that he doesn’t even mind being coated in snot and tears, he just wants Megumi to feel a little bit of comfort. He wonders how his father is coping and recalls the glass of liquor he saw in his hand in the kitchen—perhaps he’s not coping well at all. Gojo-cat supposes it must be difficult, losing someone special must have left such a gaping hole in the family, one that cannot be patched up or filled so easily. Grief has barrelled its way into this loving home and cursed the poor creatures living here. And oh, what a curse grief is.
Gojo-cat mewls softly to himself and makes himself comfortable on Megumi’s lap. He makes the decision to stay in the house a while longer, maybe demand food or a saucer of milk and see if he can wiggle his way into the household as a more permanent fixture. It is certainly not his job to fill the hole left by the untimely death of Fushiguro Ami, but he’d like to be someone that this little boy can find some comfort in. Maybe even the father, if he doesn’t throw Gojo-cat out of the house like a frisbee. His life with his humans had grown boring, at least here he thinks he can find a sense of purpose. If he works hard, perhaps he can help chase off the curse darkening this house and help the remaining family find some peace.
Gojo-cat turns his head and looks at the picture of Fushiguro Ami sitting on the shrine. He mewls softly to her, wondering if she can hear.
I’ll look after them until you all meet again , he says. Rest easy.