“I hope we can find someone who can give it a home,” the girl muttered, gently cradling the small, warm kitten. Compared to when I first met her, she slowly started to change into a different girl—a sweet, caring girl with an adorable smile and a passion for all things cute. Her complexion looked pale, exacerbated by her dark dress plus the winter air, but her big, round eyes gleamed like precious gems.
“I’ve been asking around at school, but I haven’t found anyone yet,” I admitted, feeling guilty.
“Oh…”
The girl was definitely younger than me, but there were times that she seemed abnormally calm, or maybe detached, like she’d given up on the whole world. Most likely it had something to do with her mother, who never seemed to show up. But I was just a kid—I couldn’t pry about her home life. It would be no different from feeding a cat I couldn’t keep. After all, a thoughtless, powerless child couldn’t possibly be of any help. I was just a nobody.
Our little cardboard house was located right behind the condo building. This was the best spot we could think of to keep it hidden. We didn’t care if we got dirty—we would flop down and put our heads in the box, letting the kitten sniff at our faces and curl up on our chests.
“What should we name it?”
Randomly, it occurred to me that we only ever referred to it as “Meow meow” or “Pss pss pss” or “Kitty.” Even if we were only fostering it temporarily, it still deserved a temporary nickname.
“You want to name it?” The girl contemplated this as she played with the kitten using the green foxtail I’d plucked from the ground. Then she set the toy down and gently scooped up the feisty little kitten. “Well, it’s warm like the sun, and it smells like sunshine.” She nuzzled her face against its fur.
Then, at last, I managed to ask the critical question: “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Himari. It means sunny spot,” she explained with a bashful smile.
“Wow, that’s a pretty name. Okay then, let’s give the kitten a matching nickname! How about Sunshine? Hmm…maybe not…” I grimaced at my own lack of naming sense.
“San-chan.”
Her voice was so quiet, I nearly missed it.
“San-chan? Oh, I get it. Sun, the English word. Yeah, I like it!”
As I spoke, I reached out and stroked San-chan’s little head as Himari cradled it in her arms. It closed its eyes contentedly.
Himari looked up at me and beamed, blushing. Then she looked down at the kitten nodding off to sleep against her chest and whispered, “San-chan…”
It was a day like any other. Once again, Himari and I traveled to the condo building to see San-chan. The snow that fell that morning gave the old, familiar city a fresh coat of white paint, absorbing all noise as it piled up.
Had Himari caught the flu? Was she still waiting outside for her mother, even when it was snowing? Sure, maybe I couldn’t help her family situation, but she was always so pale and thin and cold… Honestly, I worried about her more than I worried about the cat. But something told me that if I pried for details, I would never see her again.
I was just a kid.
In the corner of the square-shaped hallway, Himari sat clinging to the railing.
“Himari-chan!”
She was looking up at the sky, probably watching the snow fall. Then she whirled around excitedly, still wearing the same dingy dress. Together, we walked to San-chan’s house, just like always.
A small amount of snow had piled on the roof of the cardboard box, and the scarf nest was empty—no sign of the kitten. We searched around as best we could, but failed to find San-chan.
“Everything’s all wet,” Himari frowned, touching the scarf.
“Maybe it tried to find someplace warmer.”
The first place we thought of was the trash dump area in the basement of the building where Himari first found San-chan. There were plenty of places to hide there, and it was bound to be a little warmer indoors… We exchanged a glance, then headed to the basement. But when we arrived, the garbage collection truck was already revving up its engine.
“No!”
San-chan’s tiny box disappeared behind the rotating plate. The trash dump area was now completely empty. Meanwhile, I thought back to what I learned in school about garbage collection. When you pressed the switch, the rotating plate compressed the trash deep into the truck. Then it was taken to a waste incineration plant…
“Wait!”
Hastily, I ran after the truck. It drove out onto the snowy street and sped away.
“WAIT!”
Breathing in the icy air made my chest sting. As I ran at full speed, the falling snow flew into my face, melting into cold water. Wiping the snow from my eyelashes with one hand, I kept on running. Here in the silent city, all I could hear was the rumble of the truck’s engine and my own labored breathing.
Then, eventually, the truck disappeared into the white, foggy distance. Coughing and wheezing, I doubled over, clutching my knees as I tried to catch my breath. At my feet, the garbage truck left behind a long trail of dark tire tracks.
When I returned to the condo building, I found Himari standing by the entrance to the basement parking lot, staring at the ground.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears filled my eyes. I was the one who suggested we look after the cat in the first place, and I was the one who failed to find a forever home for it. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe part of me just wanted to keep raising it with Himari.
“It’s not your fault, Sho-chan,” she said quietly. It was freezing cold, and yet she seemingly forgot to shiver. “San-chan just wasn’t chosen.”
“Huh?”
When she looked up at me, the expression on her face reminded me of the day we first met—neither happy nor sad. And yet, nevertheless, she was crying. I wanted to reassure her…to tell her not to cry…but I couldn’t. In the end, we failed to save San-chan.
“In this world, either you’re chosen or you’re not. And if you’re left behind, you die,” Himari explained in a hoarse, watery voice that left her lips in a white fog.
And after that day, I never saw Himari at the condo building again.