With my fortieth birthday nearly at hand, my heart was lonely.
Which was why I’d come to a pet shop. One of my senior coworkers had adopted a cat, and the pure joy on his face when he brought up his beloved kitten had infected me. That cat was now plastered all over his computer and phone wallpapers. His every day suddenly seemed blissful.
Still, cats weren’t exactly a beginner’s pet.
Having one would catapult apartment-renting deposits into the stratosphere, and they needed a lot of space. To make matters worse, I’d been told the start-up fee for cats was in the hundreds of thousands of yen. Sadly, with my meager salary, that was enough to make me have second thoughts.
I wish I had money, I thought. That way, I could adopt my very own cat. Actually, even a dog wouldn’t be out of the question. A golden retriever—the greatest pupper of them all.
But I didn’t have that kind of money, so no dogs or cats for me.
And that brought me to today. For today, I was after a small bird.
My current home was a studio apartment with a separate kitchen, which limited the space I had to raise pets. That narrowed my options down to a bird or a rat. Unfortunately, rats had a heartrendingly short life span—I’d heard that most of them died within two to three years.
If I was to raise a rat, I’d be too preoccupied with trying to cherish our short time together, the dread that this year or the next might be our last together always lurking in the back of my mind. What I wanted was a pet to heal me, not add all that tension to my daily life.
When I thought about it that way, a bird was the only choice. If possible, I wanted one that was relatively quiet, smart, and able to handle a degree of stress.
Spying a golden retriever puppy in the shop, my heart longed for a big dog. It yearned to raise a golden retriever in a spacious single-family home.
“He’s so cute…”
The puppy was dozing in its cage. I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on the adorable scene; it almost made me pause on my way through the shop. My eyes were drawn to the price tag, and I found myself comparing the number with my credit card limit.
But even if the limit would have allowed for it, this was one wish that wouldn’t be granted.
My home, after all, was a tiny six-tatami room—only about a hundred square feet. More importantly, I still didn’t have the money to shell out for it.
Letting the sweet little puppy pass me by, I continued toward the bird section.
“There they are…”
I’d already decided on the species: a Java sparrow.
As far as birds went, according to the internet, they were comparatively quiet, fairly smart, and lived for about seven or eight years. Plus, they were small—and easily grew attached to people. Once I’d learned that, I couldn’t imagine getting any other type of bird, so I’d arrived at the pet shop with one goal in mind.
“Oh no, they’re adorable.”
Buying it. Already bought, in fact. But which to choose? The shop had more than I’d thought it would.
“……”
This was troubling. After all, I was about to choose my life partner for the next several years. Considering how most divorces happen within the first five years, I was basically searching for a marriage partner. I needed to adopt one that had values as compatible with my own as possible. Appearance was another important factor.
I went down the line of cages, carefully checking each. After a few, I heard a voice from one of them.
“Pick me, pick me!”
“……”
That sparrow had just spoken to me.
Though it surprised me, I had read online that a rare few of these birds could speak. Maybe this was one of them.
“Pick me, pick me!”
It seemed it wanted to go home with me.
Not that I believed it understood what it was saying. I was sure that was just a phrase it had picked up from someone. Besides, those were the only words it kept repeating. A conversation between a customer and a store clerk must have sparked something in this particular sparrow. Talk about slick self-marketing.
“……”
It had certainly piqued my interest. In fact, I was starting to feel like fate had a hand in this.
Well! My mind was made up.
“Excuse me! I’d like this Java sparrow…”
My new family member would be this chatty bird.
I left the pet shop and returned home. After cleaning the birdcage, I set it on a colored plywood box in a corner of the room. With that, the welcome reception was complete. Unlike with cats or dogs, I didn’t need to set up a pen or somewhere for it to go to the bathroom, which was nice. The only other things I’d prepared had been bird food and a cloth to hang over the cage.
“You’re so cute…”
Looking at the creature inside just warmed my heart. Golden retrievers were great and all, but so were Java sparrows. Pleased to meet you—and welcome to the team.
“Oh, that’s right. I need to give you a name.”
But what sort of name would be good? I wanted to give it a cute one. Preferably something that commented on its appearance somehow.
“My name is Piercarlo the Starsage, inhabitant of another world.”
“……”
It had just talked. The sparrow had spoken to me. It seemed as though it already had a splendid name of its own—wait, no, that didn’t make sense.
“Piercarlo?”
“Indeed.”
“……”
Oh, great. I’d just communicated with a bird. Like a regular conversation. Didn’t Mr. Yamada from the pet shop say this chick was only two months old? He’d told me if I acclimated it to human contact, it might even learn to sit on my hand. I’d headed home, vowing to make that happen.
“Peeps.”
“Peeps.”
“Great. We’ll go with Peeps.”
“……”
For a moment, it seemed like his face got a little scarier. Was he unhappy with it? But he was so cute.
I decided to talk to him a bit more, just to make sure.
“Peeps, what would you like to eat today?”
“I desire a Kobe beef chateaubriand.”
“What? How did you…?”
“The man named Yamada employed at the shop claimed it was the greatest thing he had ever tasted.”
“……”
That did it. This was definitely a conversation.
Also, Mr. Yamada was sure eating some fine cuts of meat. Didn’t chateaubriand go for, like, ten thousand yen per one hundred grams? And the famous brands were twice that, even, or three times…
“…You don’t want these pellets here?” I asked, pointing to the bag beside the cage. It contained the comprehensive nutritional diet pellets I’d bought when I’d gotten him. The clerk had said they were packed with all the nutrients sparrows needed and that as long as the bird ate these, the only other thing it would require was water. It was a lifetime diet for a sparrow—kind of like a chain restaurant beef bowl for poor office workers.