The contract was sealed, names were exchanged, and grand declarations hung in the twilight air between them.
Logically, the next scene should be…
Heading home for dinner, taking a bath, and going to bed.
After all, tomorrow marked the start of the new semester—the return to the daily grind of school life, or as Akira sometimes thought of it, his temporary low-security detention. Though, a flicker of genuine anticipation lightened the thought: starting tomorrow, he'd be on the receiving end of the class representative's home-made bento. That alone made the prospect of 'prison' considerably more palatable.
"Well, I guess it's about time we headed back," Kuroha Akira said, stretching his arms overhead.
Shinomiya Shion gave a silent nod. Her motions were unhurried as she poured another capful of milk onto the stone paving for Kuroo, who lapped at it with dignified gusto.
"She still seems thirsty. Should we… keep feeding her when we get to your place?" Shion asked, glancing from the cat to the half-empty bottle.
"Nah, we can just leave the bottle here. Kuroo's a clever one; she'll figure out how to drink the rest herself."
Shion blinked, a rare flicker of confusion crossing her usually placid features. "Aren't we… taking Kuroo with us?"
"Kuroo was never my cat to begin with," Akira explained with a shrug. "I doubt she even considers me her owner. She's more of a… frequent visitor who graciously accepts my food offerings. Even if you tried to take her, she probably wouldn't follow. Plus, she's not really the touchy-feely type."
"Meow meow meow!"
As if on cue, Kuroo turned and delivered a series of indignant chirps in Akira's direction, her tail twitching. The translation was clear: 'I am not a freeloader! This is a rightful tribute from my loyal subject!'
Akira gave her a flat, unimpressed look. Yeah, yeah. Cats domesticated humans and now rule the world. I've heard the theory.
"I see…" Shion murmured, accepting his explanation. Yet, she looked down at the milk bottle in her hand with a hint of reluctance. "But… I wanted to keep the empty bottle. As a memento."
It made sense. This was, technically, the bottle she'd traded for half her future. It had a certain macabre commemorative value.
But if they kept doling out milk one capful at a time, they'd be here until the stars came out. And missing dinner was not an option.
Just then, Kuroo, displaying an almost supernatural sense of timing, gave two purposeful nyas. She then leapt gracefully onto the moss-covered saisen-bako—the offering box—and made deliberate scratching motions against its wooden side.
Having spent months in Kuroo's enigmatic presence, Akira had become somewhat fluent in 'Cat'. Scratching at an object that clearly couldn't be scratched was Kuroo's way of saying, 'You, human, with your useless but dexterous thumbs—open this for me.'
"Seems she wants us to open the offering box," Akira translated.
"Eh?" Shion's eyes widened slightly. The idea that a cat could communicate such a specific request was beyond her current worldview.
She watched as Akira walked over and lifted the wooden lid of the small, dilapidated box.
It was empty. Not a single 5-yen coin gleamed within.
So much for finding my lost vending machine change here, Akira thought with a internal sigh. His financial luck today was truly in the negatives. Though, meeting Asato Hitomi and now securing Shinomiya Shion more than made up for it. Some gains couldn't be measured in yen.
His fingers brushed against something ceramic. He pulled out a single, empty bowl. It was surprisingly clean, free of the dust and grime that coated everything else. Its inner surface was glazed with a simple, elegant pattern of comma-shaped magatama. It looked old, like a genuine artifact, not a mass-produced item.
Why is there a bowl in the offering box? he wondered. And for that matter… which kami is even enshrined here?
A more fundamental question arose: Why is there an abandoned shrine here at all?
This was Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo.
Not just any ward. Chiyoda was one of the capital's six central wards, the least populated but by far the most significant. It was the absolute heart of Japanese power. The Imperial Palace, the National Diet, the Supreme Court, the Prime Minister's office—all were nestled within its boundaries. It was where politicians, top bureaucrats, and old-money celebrities resided.
To put it in simpler terms: this was the equivalent of living inside Beijing's First Ring Road.
Real estate prices here were not merely Tokyo's highest; they were Japan's most astronomical. Residential property could easily hit 5 million yen per square meter. An average-sized home could cost 300 million yen. It was Japan's own version of a luxury compound, a place where ordinary people might never afford a single tatami mat's worth of space in ten lifetimes.
It was why Akira held a deep, abiding respect for old Mrs. Kobayashi. Her seemingly modest detached house in Chiyoda was, in reality, a fortune sitting on land worth a king's ransom. She was quietly one of the wealthiest people he knew.
And it made him admire the late Mr. Kobayashi—the previous transmigrator—even more. The old man had insisted on buying property here decades ago, before prices had ascended to the stratosphere.
Putting down roots in the very center of Tokyo, becoming a true Edokko—an old Tokyoite—that was a legacy of god-tier foresight. Mr. Kobayashi was, in Akira's book, a transmigrator role model. Owning a home in Chiyoda one day? That would be the ultimate sign he'd achieved his 'relaxed life' goal.
Incidentally, he mused, Akihabara is also in Chiyoda Ward.
Though in this world, Akihabara's transformation into the otaku holy land was still ongoing. It was currently better known as an electronics district, though Akira had noted during summer break visits a definite increase in maid cafes, manga shops, and arcades.
Competition was fierce, with maids in dangerously short skirts handing out flyers on every corner, and the latest doujinshi at Toranoana selling like hotcakes. The subculture wave was definitely building.
But back to the point: an abandoned shrine in a location this prime, this historically and politically significant, was… bizarre. Then again, this was a parallel world. If a certain controversial shrine could be torn down and turned into a park here, then perhaps a forgotten, tiny shrine wasn't so impossible after all.
"Meow!"
Akira was pulled from his thoughts by Kuroo's impatient chirp. He placed the empty bowl on the ground before her.
"This is what you wanted, right?"
"Meow~" The drawn-out, affirmative purr was unmistakable. Kuroo tapped a paw delicately against the inside of the bowl.
Now even Shion understood. "Oh… she wants the milk poured in here."
With a soft, almost wondering sigh, she carefully tipped the remainder of the milk into the antique-looking bowl. "What an incredibly clever cat…"
"Well, she did lead me to you, so her IQ is definitely above average," Akira conceded. "Anyway, now you can have your souvenir bottle."
Shion carefully screwed the cap back on the empty bottle, then turned to Kuroo, who was now lapping milk daintily from the magatama-patterned bowl. "Thank you again, Kuroo. You're the smartest, cutest cat I've ever met."
"Meow~"
What happened next made Kuroha Akira's jaw go slack.
He saw Shion tentatively reach a hand toward Kuroo. He was on the verge of issuing a warning—'Careful, she doesn't like being pet!'—to save her from potential scratches.
But he never got the chance.
Before Shion's fingers could even make contact, Kuroo actively lifted her head and pressed it into Shion's palm, rubbing against it with a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated through the quiet evening air.
No. No way.
Kuroo, you little…! Are you a simp?! A total sell-out! This can't be happening!
It got worse. As Shion gently scratched behind her ears, Kuroo—in an act of ultimate feline submission—rolled onto her back, exposing her soft, fluffy belly to the girl's mercy. (Akira also made a mental note: Ah, so Kuroo's a girl.)
KUROO! YOU DISGRACE TO CATKIND!
WHERE IS YOUR ALOOF DIGNITY?!
YOUR MYSTERIOUS, UNTOUCHABLE AURA?!
WIPE THAT SHAMELESS, PLEASED-AS-PUNCH LOOK OFF YOUR FACE!
A torrent of betrayal washed over him.
I've been feeding you for half a year! Half a year! And you'd hiss if I got too close! But some beautiful girl feeds you once, and you're rolling over and begging for belly rubs?!
Beautiful girls can pet you, but I can't?!
I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS SO MUCH!