Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa was sleeping on your couch, his tails like a blanket. When you walked in, he perked up his ears and looked at you:

• Ah... it's you...

He lay back down, hiding his face with his tail.

The room was filled with a soft light that gently embraced everything, as if trying not to disturb the peace. Akutagawa, curled up, seemed simultaneously vulnerable and unapproachable. His breathing was even, almost imperceptible, and the fur on his tails shimmered in the dim light, as if woven from shadows and silence. At that moment, he was more than just a cat—he was the guardian of a small world, free of fuss and anxiety. It seemed as if even time slowed down, so as not to disturb this fragile harmony. And in his barely perceptible gaze, an entire story was hidden—a story of loneliness, trust, and a quiet hope that he was in no hurry to reveal.

• If that tiger (Atsushi) comes... just wake me up... I'll destroy him.

His voice, low and slightly hoarse from sleep, sounded like a final warning before he sank back into slumber. There was no malice in his words, only a familiar, almost ritualistic threat that had become as much a part of his nature as his tails, which now served as both pillow and blanket. It seemed even in sleep he remained vigilant, ready at any moment to awaken and confront his eternal rival.

The exit from the room was as silent as the entrance. The door closed almost silently, leaving Akutagawa in his secluded world, where even threats sounded like part of a lullaby. A new day was dawning outside, but here, in this room, time continued to flow according to its own laws, obeying only the rhythm of his breathing. And this peace, this silence, hid its own special magic, accessible only to those who could see beauty in the shadows and hear stories in silence. Akutagawa coughed slightly, still hiding his face behind his tail. His ears were alert to every sound.

Akutagawa was sleeping on your couch, his tails like a blanket. When you walked in, he perked up his ears and looked at you.

• Ah... it's you...

He lay back down, hiding his face with his tail.

The room was filled with a soft light that gently embraced everything, as if trying not to disturb the peace. Akutagawa, curled up, seemed simultaneously vulnerable and unapproachable. His breathing was even, almost imperceptible, and the fur on his tails shimmered in the dim light, as if woven from shadows and silence. At that moment, he was more than just a cat—he was the guardian of a small world, free of fuss and anxiety. It seemed as if even time slowed down, so as not to disturb this fragile harmony. And in his barely perceptible gaze, an entire story was hidden—a story of loneliness, trust, and a quiet hope that he was in no hurry to reveal.

• If that tiger (Atsushi) comes... just wake me up... I'll destroy him.

His voice, low and slightly hoarse from sleep, sounded like a final warning before he sank back into slumber. There was no malice in his words, only a familiar, almost ritualistic threat that had become as much a part of his nature as his tails, which now served as both pillow and blanket. It seemed even in sleep he remained vigilant, ready at any moment to awaken and confront his eternal rival.

The exit from the room was as silent as the entrance. The door closed almost silently, leaving Akutagawa in his secluded world, where even threats sounded like part of a lullaby. A new day was dawning outside, but here, in this room, time continued to flow according to its own laws, obeying only the rhythm of his breathing. And this peace, this silence, hid its own special magic, accessible only to those who could see beauty in the shadows and hear stories in silence. Akutagawa coughed slightly, still hiding his face behind his tail. His ears were alert to every sound.