by Hiro Arikawa
‘What with my father being so arrogant and selfish, maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard to be a good son.’
After he had reopened the photo studio, his father still interfered, turning up and meddling.
He’d give his opinions on how to run the place, what direction the business should go in, and generally boss Kosuke around. On top of this, he’d make inappropriate remarks to Kosuke’s wife.
‘You’d better have a child soon so there’ll be someone to take over the studio,’ he told her.
Kosuke and his wife were having trouble conceiving, and this was causing them a lot of stress. Kosuke’s mother would sometimes warn her husband to watch his tongue, but hearing candid advice from his wife only made him more obstinate, a condition he never seemed to outgrow.
Finally, Kosuke’s wife conceived a child. That had been last year. But during the first trimester of the pregnancy, when things were touch and go, she had a miscarriage.
His wife was deeply upset, and she found the words his father spoke in an attempt to comfort her extremely hurtful.
‘Well,’ he had said, ‘at least we know now you can have children.’
Kosuke was incensed. Why is this man my father? I don’t know how many times since I was a child I have felt this way about him. Ever since the day he rejected Hachi.
‘After that, my wife went back to her parents’ place. Her parents, naturally, were furious. Even if I try to apologize, they don’t want to listen.’
His father showed no remorse at all. ‘Young women these days are so touchy,’ was all he could say.
‘Sometimes I just wish he’d drop down dead.’ Kosuke blurted this out as if to himself, and quickly apologized. ‘Sorry about that,’ he added. Perhaps he’d inherited this insensitivity from his father. The idea appalled him.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Satoru said, smiling. ‘There are all kinds of parent–child relationships. I never wanted my parents to die. But if I’d had other parents, I don’t know how I would have felt. If your father had been my father, Kosuke, I don’t know if I would have been able to love him.’ He burst out laughing. ‘Some people really shouldn’t become parents. There’s no absolute guarantee when it comes to the love between a parent and their child.’
This was an unexpected view, coming from Satoru.
‘I hope your wife will come back soon,’ he added.
‘I don’t know. It’s not just her father-in-law she’s upset with.’
She must be disgusted with her husband, who had never been able to stand up to his father. Kosuke had a habit of swallowing whatever he wanted to say. Repeated patterns of childhood behaviour have long-term consequences. All Kosuke ever did was mumble ineffectually about the ridiculous things his father said in that high-handed tone of his.
‘Does your father still really meddle that much?’
‘And we don’t have as many customers these days, either.’
People weren’t going to photographic studios on special occasions like they used to. It was all part of the changing times, but Kosuke’s father blamed it on his son; he thought he was spineless. And he started interfering even more, saying he needed to take charge of the business again. And still, Kosuke could never bring himself to stand up to his father and argue back.
ME, ON THE other hand, I’m not like that. If things aren’t good, I have no problem saying so. Because cats are creatures that can say no.
And the idea of being taken into the home of a man because he hoped that his wife, who likes cats, would be tempted back? I swear, with all the feline dignity I can muster, this gets a definite no from me.
‘I wonder if Nana’s finally got used to it here.’
Kosuke stood up from the sofa and knelt beside my basket, placing his hand gently on the top.
Just try it – try pulling me out by force from this basket and I swear I’ll scratch so many lines on your face you’ll be able to play checkers on it for the next three months.
Chi chi chi – Kosuke made friendly little sounds and stuck his hand into the basket. I hissed and bared my teeth. Yep, that’s off limits. Cross that line and, believe me, you’ll live to regret it.
‘He still doesn’t seem to want to come out.’
Kosuke withdrew his hand.
‘Hmm. Doesn’t look like it’s going to work.’
‘You know …’ Satoru began hesitantly. ‘If you’re going to get a cat, I think it might be better if you and your wife find a new one together.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you take my cat, it’ll be like you’re getting back at your father for Hachi.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t even remember rejecting Hachi.’
‘But you do.’
At this, Kosuke fell silent.
I’m not denying that Kosuke wanted to take me for the sake of their friendship. But I wouldn’t let him deny, either, that taking me, with my resemblance to Hachi, would have something to do with ghosts of the past.
Neither would I let him maintain that it had nothing to do with his wife having left him because of that difficult father of his.
‘I think it would be good if you and your wife got a brand-new cat,’ Satoru said. ‘One with no strings attached.’
Kosuke pouted like a child. ‘I loved Hachi. I really wanted to adopt him back then.’
‘They look similar, but Nana is his own cat. He’s not Hachi.’
‘But you felt it was fate when you met Nana, because he looks like Hachi, didn’t you? If you were fated to have Nana, then it should be my fate, too.’
Jeez. Humans. Even when they grow up, they just don’t get things. Makes me sick.
‘My Hachi died. Back when I was in high school. Your Hachi, Kosuke, is still alive.’
That’s right. Satoru, in his mind, had already laid Hachi to rest and moved on. So Hachi’s place and my place were different.
But that’s not true of you, is it, Kosuke? You know in your head that Hachi’s dead, but emotionally you can’t accept it, right?
If you don’t mourn a dead cat properly, you’ll never get over it. Even if you feel able to mourn the death of a cat you’ve heard nothing about for years, it’s a little late to feel truly sad about it, isn’t it? One other thing:
You want me to replace Hachi, Kosuke. Up until now, Satoru has loved me as Nana, but now you expect me to be Hachi’s stand-in? Not going to happen!
And even worse is your troublesome father and wounded wife being added to the mix. I am an exceptionally wise cat, but there’s no way I’m going to be part of that drama, burdened with all those depressing human relationships as they fondle me. It’s more than I want to take on.
‘You and your wife should find a new cat and make him your own. Leave your father out of it. He might complain, but just ignore him and get a cat, if that’s what you want to do.’
Kosuke didn’t reply, but he looked like he finally understood.
So when he stuck his hand inside the basket again I allowed him to stroke me, as a kind of farewell gift.
It’s about time you cut the strings and got over your father. Cats, you know, are independent from their parents six months after they’re born.
Satoru put me and my basket back into the silver van.
He stood on the pavement, talking with Kosuke. He seemed reluctant to say goodbye.
‘Oh, by the way,’ Satoru said, slapping his forehead as if remembering something. ‘In the city, they have photographic studios that take photos of pets, and they’re really popular. There are more people than you’d think who want to have cute photos of their pets.’
Kosuke seemed quite keen on the idea. ‘Have you had professional photos taken of Nana?’
Satoru smiled mischievously. ‘Not yet. But if the Sawada Studio becomes a pet studio, then maybe I will.’
Kosuke broke into a smile. ‘It’d be fun to hurl a new business idea in my father’s face, too.’
Satoru was now in the van. He wound down the window. ‘One more t
hing,’ he said to Kosuke. ‘When I was twenty, you invited me to a class reunion, remember?’
‘Oh, that old story.’ Kosuke laughed.
‘It made me so happy.’
‘Why are you bringing that up now?’
‘’Cause I don’t think I ever told you how happy it made me.’
‘Oh, stop,’ Kosuke said, trying to change the subject.
‘I won’t,’ Satoru said jokily. ‘Thank you. I never thought I’d get a chance to come back to this town.’
Satoru finally drove off.
‘Sorry, Nana,’ Satoru said, turning towards me in the back seat. ‘I thought it was better for him to get his own cat than to take you. But I’ll find someone to have you, someone I can trust completely.’
No worries. I mean, I didn’t ask you to do this in the first place.
If you had forced me to stay there, things would have been pretty terrible for you and Kosuke, you know? By that, I mean half a year’s worth, perhaps, of chequerboards on your faces.
Satoru glanced at me in the back seat, where I was now sitting in a tidy ball, my tail around my front legs. He let out a yelp.
‘Nana! How did you get out?’
Didn’t you know? That lock on the basket doesn’t work very well, and it’s easy-peasy to unlock it from the inside.
‘So you can open it? I had no idea. I’ll have to buy a new one.’
You find out I can open the basket, and that’s all you can say? Even that day when you took me to the one place I never, ever want to go, the vet’s, I didn’t try to run away.
‘On second thoughts, maybe there’s no need. Even if you’ve known how to get out all along, you still listened to me.’
Exactly. Satoru should be thankful I’m such an exceptionally bright cat.
I stretched up, placing my front paws on the passenger window, and enjoyed the passing scenery for a while, then curled up on the seat.
Some kind of rock music was playing on the car radio, and the bass sounds vibrated in my stomach. Not exactly my thing.
Cats have their own preferences when it comes to music. Did you know that?
I pressed my ears down and waved my tail around in an attempt to make my feelings known to Satoru. It didn’t take him long to understand.
‘Oh, I see, you don’t like this. What’s on the stereo, I wonder?’
Satoru switched to the car stereo and a light orchestral melody started playing. Okay, this wasn’t so bad.
‘My mother used to like this. Paul Mauriat.’
Hm, not bad at all. I could picture doves about to fly off, a happy vision from the feline perspective.
‘I never knew you liked cars so much, Nana. If I’d known, I would have taken you to all kinds of places.’
Saying I like cars is a little inaccurate. Aren’t you sort of forgetting that a car broke my leg?
I just like this silver van, that’s all. ’Cause it was mine even before I met Satoru.
Okay, so whose place are you going to take me to next?
AFTER KOSUKE HAD waved off Satoru and Nana, he went back inside and found a text on his phone.
It was from his wife.
Did you take the cat?
He was about to reply, but decided to call instead.
He had a feeling that this time she might answer.
The phone rang seven times. Nana’s lucky seven.
‘Hello?’ His wife’s tone was flat and a little distant.
Now it was up to Kosuke to cheerfully, delicately, soften that hard voice.
‘I was thinking,’ he said evenly. ‘What about if the two of us got our own new cat?’
2
THE UNSENTIMENTAL FARMER
THE DAY WE set off again, music filled the silver van once more, the kind that sounds like a magician is about to whisk a dove from a hat.
Satoru said the title was ‘Necklace of Olive’. How come there was no dove in the title? If it were up to me, I’d put one in. How about calling it ‘The Special Relationship Between a Dove and a Silk Hat’?
‘It’s nice to have good weather again today, isn’t it, Nana?’
Satoru was in a great mood. All cats get sleepy when it rains, and I was wondering: does weather affect humans physically, too?
‘Going for a drive isn’t much fun if it’s not sunny.’
Ah, so it was a question of mood. Humans are so easygoing. A cat’s behaviour is controlled by real-life factors, and for strays the weather can be a matter of life and death. Our success rate in hunting changes, too.
‘We’ll take a break at the next service station.’
Unlike when we went to Kosuke’s place, the road we were taking on that day had very few places to stop. Satoru said it was called a motorway. Basically the only time the silver van stopped was when Satoru announced that we were heading to a service station.
Satoru said this was the road we had to take if we intended to travel far away, and this trip was indeed a long one. It was the previous morning that the silver van had left home. We drove along the highway all day, then stayed overnight at a place where they allow pets.
With it being such a long trip, the space in the van had been compartmentalized. So, if you’ll excuse me a second.
As I slipped off the passenger seat towards the back of the van, Satoru asked, ‘Something wrong?’ and glanced at me.
‘Ah, sorry …’
Yeah. My toilet was on the floor at the back. A new one Satoru had bought which had a hood so the litter didn’t fly all over the place.
This way, Satoru and I could go as far as we wanted in our silver van.
I thought it would be great if we could travel together like this for the rest of our lives.
‘Nana, we’re just going to pull into a service station—’
Okey-dokey, I answered vaguely, raking up the litter between my legs.
Once Satoru had parked at the service station, he pulled out my food and water bowls from the back. He placed them on the floor of the van side by side, filling one bowl with crunchies and the other with water from a plastic bottle.
‘I’m going to go to the toilet, too.’
Satoru hurriedly shut the door and strolled off. He looked like he really had to go, but he was such a good owner he had taken care of my needs first.
I was wetting my whistle with the water when I heard a tapping on the window. Not again.
I glanced behind me and then up to see a young couple, faces plastered against the glass, staring in my direction. The pair had goofy smiles.
‘A cat!’
You got that right. A cat I am. So? A cat eating his crunchies isn’t so rare a sight, is it?
‘Oh, look – it’s eating. How sweet!’
‘So sweet!’
Hey, you idiotic couple. How would you like it if somebody pointed at you while you were eating? And today happens to be a chicken-breast-and-gourmet-seafood blend.
How come cat lovers spot me every time? Whenever we take a break, they swarm around me. Pretty amazing, if you think about it.
If you guys were the ones who fed me, then I’d be as sweet to you as the quality of the food merited, but Satoru’s the one who feeds me. So let me focus on my food. Okay?
I decided to ignore them and dived back into my crunchies. With some screeches and giggles, they seemed to give up and wander away.
But only moments later I felt someone’s red-hot gaze on me. I looked up despite myself, and this time it was a scary-looking, goblin-like old man’s face plastered to the window.
Yikes! I jerked away on reflex, and the old man looked really hurt. Come on – anybody would shudder if they were suddenly confronted by that kind of face while they were having a snack. Not my fault, now, is it?
The old man looked upset but kept his face up against the window, staring at me.
‘I’m guessing you like cats?’
This from Satoru, who’d come back. The old man, a bit flustered, replied, ‘Sure is a cute little kitty.’ Cute little kitty
?
I looked up and meowed. On the other side of the window, Satoru smiled and nodded.
‘Would you like to stroke him?’
‘Are you sure?’
The old man started to blush like a girl. Satoru opened the door and I clambered over to the seat. The old man reached out and I let him stroke me. His face began to glow. But just then—
‘No way! A cat!’
The shriek came from a clump of gyaru – girls with dyed-blonde hair and thick make-up – who were passing by.
‘I want to stroke it! Can we touch him after you?’
Get lost! I bared my teeth and made my fur stand on end, and the group of gyaru shrieked again: ‘Oh my god – he’s angry!’ and ran off.
‘But I wanted to give him a stroke—’ the tall one whined.
‘It’s okay. That kind of cat with those eyebrow markings isn’t that cute anyway.’
Excuse me?! This insult was so unfounded my face went into a kind of flehmen response. I curled back my upper lip and bared my front teeth like a tiger.
‘You are cute, Nana! Very cute!’ Satoru hurriedly interjected. ‘Those girls are a bit loud, and I’m sure their sense of what’s beautiful is different from most people’s. Let’s just let it go.’
‘No, he really is a cute cat,’ the old man said. ‘Nana, you said his name is?’
‘Yeah. Because his tail’s hooked into the shape of a seven.’
I didn’t think we needed to explain the origin of my name to every passing stranger, but Satoru was always so conscientious when it came to things like that.
‘Is he maybe the type that doesn’t let people touch him much?’
‘Yes, he’s very choosy about who he allows to touch him when we’re out and about.’
‘I see,’ the old man said, smiling even more broadly. Then he gave me one final lingering pat on the middle of my back and walked off.
‘Kind of unusual, isn’t it, Nana, for you to let a passer-by stroke you for so long?’
True enough. How should I put it? I was making amends – a sort of atonement. No need to analyse it any further.
The van had been driving along for a while when I next stretched up to look out of the passenger window. The sea!
