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“Yoshiki, look! Mincemeat cutlets!”
“What’re ya talking about?” Yoshiki squints against the blinding snow through his bangs. The snowfall is thin and wet. It’ll probably be gone by tomorrow, but the cold seeps into Yoshiki’s core. Winter has come early this year.
It’ll have been a year soon. So soon. Just a few more weeks.
Time refuses to stop, more of a monster than anything else Yoshiki has encountered.
“Cutlets, Yoshiki,” Hikaru repeats as though this clears anything up. He looks over his shoulder up at Yoshiki from where he squats at the edge of the road. The glaring orange of his jacket makes him stick out like a sore thumb against the slushy ground. Makes him look more like Hikaru than ever. Yoshiki wishes he’d throw it away.
Yoshiki hates that jacket.
But the eager shine in Hikaru’s eyes and excited puff of breath in the chilly air makes the jacket easier to ignore. It’s hard to ruminate on anything when Hikaru looks at him like that.
“Quit being dumb. What do ya mean, ‘cutlets?’”
Hikaru’s grin broadens as Yoshiki moves to stand by him. Hikaru has his bare hands planted firmly in the snow to support himself in an effort to keep his knees off the wet ground. He doesn’t seem to notice the cold at all.
He raises a slushy hand to point at a bush a couple meters away.
Yoshiki doesn’t see anything remarkable at first. But when he takes a step forward to get a closer look, a short hiss alerts him to a small calico cat beneath the sodden, dead bush leaves. And beneath the cat, three squirming fuzzy lumps.
“They’ve gotta be Mince’s, don’cha think?” Hikaru asks, turning his eyes back to the little family of cats. “Little meat cutlets!”
“Mince ain’t the only male cat around here,” Yoshiki says.
One of the fuzzy lumps mewls loudly. Its white fur blends in neatly with the snow, stumpy tail swishing clumsily.
“Probably,” Yoshiki amends.
Hikaru bounces excitedly on his heels, snaggletooth on full display from how wide his smile becomes. Before Yoshiki can stop him, Hikaru reaches out towards the cats.
A spitting hiss, a swipe of claws, and Hikaru’s ass hits the wet ground. He blinks at the mother cat and then down at his bloody hand.
“You shouldn’t touch stray cats, Hikaru,” Yoshiki sighs.
“You pet Mince!”
“Mince is different. He’s like… the town’s collective cat.”
“But these are Mince babies!” Hikaru protests, wiping his hand in the snow. Yoshiki refuses to think about the bright red blood the motion leaves behind, next to that bright orange jacket.
“That doesn’t mean -” Yoshiki shakes his head. “Even Mince hissed at you at first, remember? And we don’t even know if they’re really Mince’s.”
Hikaru pouts. “Ain’t they gunna be too cold if they stay here?”
It’s a good point. Yoshiki does another anxious scan of the cats. The mother has shrunk deeper under the sparse cover of the bush, fur on end. One of her ears has collapsed from the cold. The kittens’ ears are still folded tightly to their heads, eyes still sealed. They can’t be more than a day or two old. If this cold snap stays as long as it’s forecasted, they don’t have much chance of making it.
Yoshiki’s heart throbs.
“Yer overthinkin’ it.”
“Ya sure yer mom won’t mind?” Yoshiki asks again as he shuts the door behind them.
Hikaru kicks off his shoes, arms wrapped in a bearhug around the cardboard box containing the cats. It had been surprisingly easy to catch them. The mother refused to leave her kittens while Yoshiki ran to the little convenience store on the corner to get a box and gloves. And while she put up a spectacular fight when Hikaru picked her up, she quickly settled into the box on her own after Yoshiki hastily dropped the kittens into it.
“I told ya, yer overthinkin’ it,” Hikaru says, waving off Yoshiki’s worry with a literal swish of his hand. Yoshiki grimaces at the hiss and mews of protest that come from the box at the jarring motion.
“If you say so,” Yoshiki mumbles, sliding off his own shoes. He lines them up against the side of the genkan and straightens Hikaru’s shoes, too.
Their bathroom cat setup is shoddy at best. Yoshiki puts some old towels in the box while avoiding the mother cat’s claws, and Hikaru fills the box lid with some wood shavings for a makeshift litter box. Thank god for living in a lumber town, because Yoshiki hadn’t even considered kitty litter. Stupid.
They offer a little leftover chicken from Hikaru’s fridge, but after another unwavering growl, they wind up leaving it on the floor as Yoshiki tugs Hikaru out of the bathroom. Time to give the stressed out cat a little space.
Hikaru stares forlornly at the bathroom door. Yoshiki doesn’t miss the twitch of his fingers.
“C’mon let her settle in,” Yoshiki says. “Yer just gunna stress her out more. Let’s go get some actual cat food.”
Hikaru’s eyes are cloudy with something when he looks over to Yoshiki. Yoshiki pauses, waiting for the question he obviously wants to ask. But instead, Hikaru simply grins and turns away to scamper to the front door.
“We gotta get Churus! Mince loves those!”
Hikaru’s body is warm where it presses against Yoshiki’s.
Does he have to think about it? Does he consciously make himself feel warm, alive, human? His insides are so cool, it feels impossible that he should radiate heat the way any normal person would.
Yoshiki looks up from his phone, abandoning the article on kitten care to stare at Hikaru. They barely fit side by side on his futon, but these days Hikaru always winds up mostly on top of Yoshiki anyway when they roll out a spare. It’s not really worth the effort. And Yoshiki has gotten used to Hikaru’s disregard for personal space.
He can’t deny he enjoys it. Not anymore. Especially not now, when the floor is cold and frost creeps along the windows.
As he pages through his manga, Hikaru’s head sways in time with whatever tune he’s humming to himself. Yoshiki leans his own head away to avoid getting clocked in the jaw by Hikaru’s skull and returns his attention to his phone.
Sudden warmth washes over Yoshiki’s shoulder and neck when Hikaru tucks his head into the space Yoshiki created. Soft hair tickles against Yoshiki’s cheek.
Yoshiki’s mouth pulls into a smile.
“What I read online said to ignore her and just sit in the same room as her. Let her get used to ya.”
Hikaru whines and sits back against the bathroom wall, dutifully and dolefully remaining on the opposite end of the bathroom as the stray. The cat watches them warily, tail flicking as her kittens nurse her belly. Hikaru frowns back, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.
It’s uncanny how much he looks like Hikaru - the original Hikaru. In that bulky sweater, it’s unfair how similar they seem. Almost like Hikaru never died, like Yoshiki is sitting in this bathroom one year prior and Hikaru never went up that mountain.
But at the same time, not at all. Even if Yoshiki were to snap a photo right now, he’d see the differences. It’s not just the red behind his eyes that catches in the bathroom’s fluorescent light. His jaw is sharper now. His shoulders are wider. His hands are larger with faint veins rising over the bones across the back.
He’s older now, Yoshiki realizes numbly. Older than Hikaru - original Hikaru, his lifelong best friend - ever grew to be. Older than he will ever be again.
Is this how Hikaru would have looked if he was alive today? Or has this new Hikaru become so distinct that even his appearance is disparate now?
“We should at least get to play with the kittens,” Hikaru complains.
A silent laugh escapes Yoshiki. No, they really couldn’t be more different from each other, could they?
“Ya wanna get scratched again?” Yoshiki asks. “Be patient. She ain’t gunna trust you right away. You can’t rush things like that.”
Yoshiki frowns at his own words. How did Hikaru trust Yoshiki so fast? Well, to be fair Hikaru could (and can) always kill Yoshiki at any time. There’s not a lot of trust needed from his end, Yoshiki supposes. At least not that kind of trust.
No, what Hikaru did was even more bizarre. This powerful, beautiful monster loved Yoshiki, so quickly, so absolutely. How does that happen so quickly?
Hikaru drapes himself across Yoshiki’s legs to bemoan the horrible unfairness of enduring the presence of kittens without getting to play with them. He kicks his legs to convey just how terrible a fate it is and Yoshiki snatches his ankle to keep his flailing from spooking the cat.
Hikaru laughs and Yoshiki never wants to let him go.
Yoshiki’s not sure a kitten can be ugly, per se, but Mince Jr. is certainly testing that theory.
“Ya gotta be gentle,” Yoshiki reminds Hikaru.
“I know, I know,” Hikaru replies. His back is straight and he trembles with eager excitement as Yoshiki gently places the kitten in Hikaru’s waiting hands.
Mince Jr. wails the raspiest kitten meow Yoshiki has ever heard. Hikaru beams, delighted, and carefully, so gently pulls the kitten close to his chest and scratches behind its newly perked ears. The little white kitten’s stumpy tail arches and its head pushes into Hikaru’s touch despite the sour look on its face.
A burst of glowing fondness pushes through the heaviness behind Yoshiki’s ribs. He should have brought his camera.
After a few moments of watching Hikaru gently move the kitten this way and that, Yoshiki reaches into the bedbox to pick up one of the other two - a little thing with brown tabby patches across its white coat. Everything Yoshiki read online said three weeks is about the right age to start socializing the kittens so they can be properly homed, so it’s time to start getting them used to handling.
Mama Cat sits perched atop the edge of the bathtub, keeping a watchful eye trained on them. She’s far enough away to be safe from either of their reach, but close enough to leap in snarling should they dare hurt her babies. All things considered, Yoshiki’s impressed by how tolerant she has become the past few weeks despite being a far cry from tamed yet. Maybe she’s just tuckered out from taking care of babies all day. He can’t blame her for that.
Warm fuzzies should be impenetrable while holding kittens, but they slowly die in Yoshiki’s chest. The thick feeling that settled in his lungs the moment he got up this morning is nagging, persistent. His kitten squirms at the lack of enthusiastic petting so he puts it back and picks up the third kitten, a calico mommy clone.
It's undeniably cute. Big baby-blue eyes look up at Yoshiki as he gives it a gentle scratch under the chin. The mew that comes from it is tiny and soft and he can feel a silent purr vibrating from it.
It still doesn’t bring back any warmth in Yoshiki’s chest. Not today.
Still, he dutifully sets the kitten down to stroke its back and carefully rub its belly when it flops to the floor. It’s an important job to get these kittens set up for a life of success. He can’t let his glum demeanor hinder that.
“Yoshiki, Yoshiki, look!”
Yoshiki looks up to see Hikaru balancing Mince Jr. precariously on his head. The proud grin on Hikaru’s face lasts a mere second before Mama Cat flies in.
“Ow!”
Mama Cat’s claws scratch fantastic lines into Hikaro’s neck and shoulder as she scrabbles up him to snatch up her kitten and return it safely to the nesting box. A low growl rumbles from her throat before she jumps back up to perch on the tub, leveling her gaze to glare at Hikaru.
“That was stupid of ya,” Yoshiki says.
“You could have a little sympathy!” Hikaru gingerly rubs his scratched up neck. It must not bother him too much because he doesn’t do anything to heal the wound. “Why are ya so gloomy today, anyway?”
Yoshiki frowns. “I’m always gloomy.”
“Nuh-uh,” Hikaru says. “Not this much. You’ve been extra emo all day.”
Yoshiki’s lungs feel cold.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Yoshiki mumbles. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
He dips his head to hide behind his bangs, busies his hands with petting the little calico kitten. It makes a clumsy attempt at wrestling his hand and a single baby tooth catches his finger.
“Hmm, nah,” Hikaru says. “What’re ya thinking about?”
Yoshiki doesn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he picks up the kitten to put it back in the box with its siblings, feeling Hikaru’s eyes on him. When he settles back next to Hikaru, his eyes stay glued to the floor.
“Today’s one year,” Yoshiki murmurs.
For a second, Hikaru doesn’t get it. Yoshiki pulls his eyes from the ground long enough to glimpse Hikaru’s puzzled expression. And then it clicks.
“Oh.” Hikaru’s eyes widen, dart down at himself, and then reconnect with Yoshiki’s. “Wow.”
“Mmm,” is all Yoshiki says in response. He looks back down at the floor.
The dense silence that follows is oppressive.
“Ya still miss him,” Hikaru says.
“Course I do.”
Another short silence. It’s broken by shuffling as Hikaru scoots closer to lean his shoulder against Yoshiki’s. It makes Yoshiki’s eyes burn and throat grow tight, but he doesn’t cry.
“He really did love ya, Yoshiki,” Hikaru says. His voice is a little off with an emotion Yoshiki struggles to place. “I don’t know exactly what way, but he really did love ya. I hope it ain’t wrong of me to say, but I’m glad he wanted me here with ya.”
The tight knot is Yoshiki’s throat thickens into a rock. Swallowing around it becomes difficult. He doesn’t dare try speaking around it.
“I know I make things hard but I -” Hikaru continues, hesitating for a moment before finishing his thought, “I’m so glad I got to meet ya. I love ya too. So much.”
The emotion that runs beneath Yoshiki’s veins is sharp and sweet and cruel all at once. It’s too much. He draws his knees to his chest and tucks his head into his arms to hide his eyes as the burning in them overflows. A year already and somehow it’s just as painful as Day One.
Hikaru doesn’t say anything. He simply leans a little harder into Yoshiki’s trembling shoulder. There’s so much love in the gesture, it tears Yoshiki apart as much as it holds him together.
Confusion blurs with renewed grief over the anniversary of the loss that started all of this. How can time continue on like this, as though nothing has changed? How can this inhuman creature care more than the world itself cares that Hikaru died?
Why does Hikaru, this new Hikaru, even love Yoshiki so much? Sure, he’s explained before, but even he agreed he basically imprinted on Yoshiki. And the fact that he’s here because of the original Hikaru’s dying wish makes it feel even more like an emotion born from nothing but a magic tether.
Would Hikaru have ever loved Yoshiki if he wasn’t instinctually bound to granting that final request for Yoshiki to not be alone? Is it truly love if he’s just shackled to the role of fulfilling a wish like his nature demands?
Yoshiki sniffs loudly in a futile attempt to compose himself.
Hikaru doesn’t say anything more, simply stays next to Yoshiki until his breathing slowly evens out and his pathetic sniffling stops.
When he feels Hikaru suddenly shift, Yoshiki lifts his head to find Hikaru reaching into the kitten box, entirely ignoring the warning meow from Mama Cat. Hikaru turns back towards Yoshiki with a little ball of white fluff pressed to his cheek.
Mince Jr.’s raspy meow settles into a familiar disgruntled face and Hikaru scrunches his cheeks into an identical frumpy expression.
Yoshiki blinks.
And then he laughs despite the cold anchor in his lungs.
That night, Yoshiki lies staring at the ceiling of Hikaru’s bedroom.
All pretense of personal space has been foregone. Hikaru is fully tangled up in Yoshiki, one leg entwined with Yoshiki’s and the other draped over Yoshiki’s hip while his arms are wrapped around Yoshiki’s neck. Hikaru’s breath carcasses Yoshiki’s cheek with each exhale, steady in sleep.
It’s not exactly comfortable. Yoshiki has no desire to move.
He closes his own eyes, counting each of Hikaru’s breaths as he attempts to follow him into sleep.
Yoshiki’s heart thumps, painfully full with tender warmth.
Is it wrong of him to enjoy how good Hikaru’s love feels? His adoration and devotion? Is it selfish of Yoshiki to accept this love, even if Hikaru never had any choice but to feel it?
“Yer overthinkin’ again, Yoshiki.”
“It’s been six weeks and she still won’t let us touch her, how are we s’posed to get her homed?”
“There’s still time before the babies can be separated from her right? Don’t worry ‘bout it so much.”
Yoshiki worries about it.
He chews on the inside of his cheek as he stares at Mama Cat. She’s put on weight since they took her in. That’s good. Her collapsed ear is still folded against her head, but it doesn’t look any worse or like it got infected. That’s also good. Maybe she’d be fine if they simply let her back outside and just focus on getting the kittens homes instead?
He’d rather not make her go back outside before winter passes but…
“I’m tryna convince my mama to let me keep Mince Jr.,” Hikaru says. “She ain’t so sure about it, but I keep telling her it ain’t that different than having the cats here now! Except we’d get our bathroom back.”
Yoshiki hums noncommittally in response. It would be helpful if Hikaru could keep it. Then they only have two kittens to find homes for.
He watches as Mince Jr. treads directly into the middle of the mushy, watered down cat food they’ve left out to start weaning the kittens. Maybe it is pointless to worry so much yet.
“Think Maki’s brother would want one?” Hikaru asks. He’s got one of Yoshiki’s hands, idly passing it back and forth between his own, playing with Yoshiki’s fingers as they talk. Always the casual contact.
That’s unique to this Hikaru. How casual he is with affection. How little concern he has for personal bubbles.
Would he be this way if he were here for any other reason? Would he be so affectionate and touchy if he were granting any other wish? If he weren’t granting any wish at all?
“He can’t have pets in the dorms,” Yoshiki answers, eyes now trained on how Hikaru plays with his hand instead of the cats.
“Mmm, ain’t he in an apartment now?”
Yoshiki has no idea, so he doesn’t answer. Hikaru’s nails are slightly overgrown. It’s been too long since he last trimmed them.
“Asako said the Itos might be interested, so maybe she can ask them for us,” Hikaru continues.
How does time feel to Hikaru? Does it pass by slowly since he’s only been here as a human for a year now? Is that part of why Yoshiki feels so important to Hikaru? Because, like a child, a year is an eternity to him?
“Wait,” Hikaru says, “I think she said Old Man Ito had an allergy or somethin’. Do you remember?”
Or does time pass quickly for Hikaru because his actual existence spans hundreds of years? How can Yoshiki matter much to him at all if he’s only been around for a blink’s worth of time in comparison?
“Yoshikiii,” Hikaru whines and shakes Yoshiki’s hand. “Are ya listening?”
“Sorry,” Yoshiki mumbles, “I’m listenin’.”
"Something's botherin’ you again.”
“It’s noth-” Yoshiki begins to deny, but then shakes his head. “It’s stupid.”
Hikaru’s brows lower. “Quit doin’ that. Tell me.”
A cold pit forms in Yoshiki’s stomach. He doesn’t want to upset Hikaru over his own stupid overthinking. How is he even supposed to put it in words?
“Do you remember when, um,” Yoshiki starts, hesitates. He swallows and forces himself to continue. “When you first… got that body. Do you remember what it felt like then? How you felt about people?”
Hikaru’s frown twists with uncertainty.
“Sorta,” he says. “It was confusin’ at first. I knew everything that I had to do, but it was my first time feeling anythin’. I didn’t know what the feelings meant. Sorta like reading an instruction manual for somethin’ I hadn’t put together yet.”
Oh. Yoshiki hums noncommittally in response.
“Why?” Hikaru presses.
“Do you… remember how you felt about me at first?” Yoshiki asks, the words reluctant on his tongue. He pulls his hand away from Hikaru and fiddles his fingers in his lap.
Hikaru tilts his head, squinting. He shuffles, adjusting himself from sitting side-by-side with Yoshiki to sit facing him instead. He leans forward and Yoshiki has to stop himself from reflexively leaning back to reestablish a normal amount of space between the two of them.
He doesn’t dislike how close Hikaru gets, but it does make it much harder to hide from those eyes that seem to cut right into Yoshiki’s core and see him naked and exposed.
“I liked ya,” Hikaru eventually answers.
“…Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hikaru says with a definitive nod. “I didn’t really get it, but I knew that much. I liked ya a lot.”
His answer makes Yoshiki feel worse. The pit in his stomach grows, leaving his lungs empty and his spine cold.
“Ya don’t like that,” Hikaru says. It’s not exactly a question, but it’s not quite a statement either.
Yoshiki bows his head, lets his bangs hide his eyes as they dart away to look at some meaningless spot on the floor beside them.
“Did you have to like me?” Yoshiki asks, voice barely audible even to himself.
Hikaru leans back. There’s pain in his voice when he asks, “Whaddaya mean by that?”
Yoshiki forces his eyes back to Hikaru. The hurt is even more evident in his expression than it had been in his voice.
“Just,” Yoshiki tries to explain, tone sharper than he intended in his urgency to fix it, to soothe the hurt in Hikaru’s eyes. “Did you - like, were you forced to like me? Did ya have any say in it at all?”
Hurt morphs into confusion as Hikaru’s eyes dance searchingly between Yoshiki’s.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Hikaru says. His voice is tight and so are his shoulders.
“Did you have to like me, because that’s what Hikaru wished for?”
The faucet is dripping. One of the kittens cries.
“I don’t know,” Hikaru says. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Yoshiki bursts.
“Why?” It doesn’t sound like a question at all this time. It sounds like begging.
Hikaru’s eye distorts with the shape of his amorphous insides. Yoshiki sucks in a quick, shallow breath. It looks like tears. It always looks like tears.
“Because how can ya actually like me if you never had any say in it?” Yoshiki gasps, voice thick.
How can there be any love without autonomy? Without consent to feel it?
“Did ya only ever like me because of that wish?” Yoshiki whispers around the lump in his throat.
The sound that escapes Hikaru is small, but sharp. Like choking.
This time Hikaru is the one to look away, turning his entire head to the side. His insides run down his grimacing cheek, his teeth clenched and bared.
Neither of them say anything. Yoshiki doesn’t dare make a sound.
The silence is broken when Hikaru sniffs loudly, wiping his other eye with a fist. His insides slurp back into him, returning his eye to normal. Just red with unshed tears.
He still doesn’t answer Yoshiki. Instead he shifts away to lift Mince Jr. from the kitten soup. He presses his face into the kitten’s fur, ignoring the mess of cat food slurry that it leaves on his nose.
Yoshiki’s eyes drop to the floor, shame burning through the cold inside him.
“Why do ya think Mama Cat likes Baby Mincemeat?” Hikaru’s question is muffled in cat fur.
“Huh?” Yoshiki looks up. Mince Jr. wiggles fruitlessly in Hikaru’s hold in an effort to return to its sloppy meal. They look ridiculous.
“You know how this stuff works better than me,” Hikaru says into another mouthful of fur. He lifts his face to look at Yoshiki with red, pinched eyes.
Yoshiki glances at Mama Cat. She’s rigid, watching them carefully after their outburst. She hasn’t escalated to action yet but her tense muscles say she’s ready to leap in to rescue her babies in an instant if necessary.
“She liked her babies enough to follow’em here even though she doesn’t like us,” Hikaru sniffles. “But you even said she only had ‘em for a day or two before that.”
Yoshiki feels dumbfounded at the implied question. Why did she already love her babies that much if she didn’t even know them yet?
“Because she’s their mom,” Yoshiki answers numbly. “Moms always love their babies.”
“Why?”
“They - they have to.” Yoshiki swallows and shakes his head. “That ain’t the same thing! It’s instinct!”
“Yer mom ain’t love you at first?” Hikaru asks.
Yoshiki’s teeth click together, cutting off his next protest.
Of course his mom loved him. But, but that -
“Why ain’t that a problem?” Hikaru asks. “If it’s instinct, they ain’t got a choice in it either. So why is it okay for yer mama to like you right away, but not me?”
Yoshiki slumps back against the bathroom wall, suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t know how to answer. It feels wrong, but why? Hikaru has a point.
“I don’t know,” Yoshiki says to the floor.
Mince Jr. mewls loudly in Hikaru’s grasp. Mama Cat growls and Hikaru hastily sets the kitten back down by the food dish.
“If ya don’t know, then why’s it matter?” Hikaru asks again, turning back to Yoshiki. There’s a challenge in his voice now, undercut by the kitten slop smeared across his nose.
An involuntary smile tugs at Yoshiki’s lips. He reaches over to wipe Hikaru’s nose with a thumb.
“I don’t know,” Yoshiki says again. The resignation in his voice is obvious even to himself.
“It don’t matter,” Hikaru decides. “Even if it is because of Hikaru’s wish, or because of my nature, I still love ya. It doesn’t matter if that’s why I love ya. It doesn’t change the fact that I do.”
A helpless chuckle of defeat is all Yoshiki can muster in response.
“Besides,” Hikaru adds, “I already told ya. Yer nice to me. That’s how I feel. Yer nice to me, and I love ya.”
Yoshiki bends forward to press his forehead against Hikaru’s chest.
“Okay,” Yoshiki says. “Okay. Yer right.”
Mama Cat’s thrashing nearly frees her from the towel Yoshiki is carrying her in. He rushes to the door.
The second he steps outside, he releases his hold on the writhing bundle. Before it even hits the ground, Mama Cat is out from the cloth and sprinting into the nearest cover of brush. The shrubbery and weeds are dashed with early spring buds.
Time continues to march relentlessly on.
“Whoa-ho!” Hikaru laughs beside Yoshiki. “Lookit her go!”
Mama Cat’s head pokes up above the brush, just enough to peer back at them, her one upright ear turned towards them in rapt attention.
Another delighted laugh escapes Hikaru, and he raises Mince Jr. high for her to see, waving the kitten's paw. He’d been successful in convincing his mama to let him keep it.
Mama Cat’s eyes dilate before her head ducks low. For a moment, her ear swivels, making some sort of assessment. A short pause, and then she dashes off, deeper into the brush, away from the two of them and her kitten. In less than an instant, she’s completely out of sight.
Does she trust them to watch her kitten now? Or do instincts tell her to move on - the kittens don’t need her anymore, there’s nothing left to be gained from her attachment to them?
It’s impossible to know. But, Yoshiki decides, it doesn’t change the fact that she refused to leave her babies the day they found her. She clearly loved them, at least at that point in time. Even if it was just instinct commanding her to.
“Think she’ll come back?” Hikaru asks.
“Who knows,” Yoshiki replies, watching the way Mince Jr. allows Hikaru to continue puppeting its little white paw without resistance.
The original Hikaru would have never asked to keep that kitten.
Would Yoshiki himself have ever loved this current Hikaru - monster and crybaby in his entirety - had he not started existence as an echo of Hikaru Indou? Would Yoshiki have been as drawn to him, been as adamant about staying in his presence long enough to love him for the individual he is without that initial spark?
He can explain all the reasons each Hikaru is unique, and all the reasons his love for each is unique. But he still can’t quite pinpoint exactly when that distinction occurred. The exact moment his own love for each happened without the influence of the other.
No matter how much he pulls apart those threads, they’re so tightly woven he doubts he’ll ever truly know the answer.
But Hikaru is right. It’s pointless to try to figure out how or why love happens. It’s beyond anyone’s control.
Love is just what’s in their hearts, in their nature.
.