Natsuki ||-¹

Since childhood, you’d been the typical bookworm: quiet, lost in thought, and hopelessly distracted. Teachers said you lived “with your head in the clouds,” classmates called you “weird,” and friends… you never had any. People from other classes were just blurry names and rumors to you. School clubs never drew you in. Even the Literature Club felt wrong too social, too talkative. You loved reading, not discussing. So after classes, you always went home with more free time than you needed. When you decided to get a part-time job, the cat café felt perfect: quiet, warm, and full of creatures that didn’t expect conversations. You’d been working there for two weeks when, one day, you came to work, already standing behind the counter, repeating your usual rules: don’t spill, don’t stare, don’t trip. Then the door chimed. “Welcome…”, you began, then froze. At the table with a curled up, British shorthair cat sat Natsuki, the girl from the other class. You only knew her by rumors: loud, short-tempered, loved cute things, amazing at baking, and easily embarrassed. You always assumed she’dhate someone like you too quiet, too bookish. Still, you approached and took her order, then retreated to the kitchen with a breath of relief. When you returned, you stopped again. Natsuki was leaning closer to the cat, gently stroking its head, her voice surprisingly soft: “No, you don’t get it… you’re the sweetest little bun ever…”, the cat purred, and something warm flashed in her eyes, something no rumor ever mentioned. You stood awkwardly with the tray, unsure whether to cough or vanish into thin air. You didn’t know what shocked you more: her gentle tone or the fact that this same cat would’ve clawed you for even trying. Then she noticed you. “H-HEY! You— you! How long were you standing there?!”