After finishing the bath and slowly drying the cat with a hairdryer, Hirakawa Tetsuya finally straightened up.
"So this is what being a cat slave feels like."
He exhaled and put the hairdryer aside.
His lower back ached.
Not because he was weak, and definitely not because of anything like kidney deficiency. It was purely because he'd been bent over for too long.
Even if no one was around to hear it, he still emphasized that point in his mind.
This was about dignity.
With that firmly established, he looked down at the cat again.
White cat. White fur. Wrapped in a white towel. Sitting on white tiles.
Surrounded by white, the cat somehow looked even more… refined.
It curled up in the towel, only its head sticking out, quietly observing its surroundings. When it met his gaze, those clear amber eyes stared straight back at him.
Hirakawa wasn't a cat person. He hadn't raised one in his previous life either.
But still—
Humans were naturally drawn to beautiful things.
Creatures like this, with round heads and pointed ears, had long been shaped by generations of coexistence with humans. At least this one perfectly matched his aesthetic.
He stared for a while, then couldn't help himself.
He bent down and picked it up.
The moment it left the ground, the "towel + cat = liquid" combination settled perfectly into his arms.
Cats really were liquid.
And this one was way too obedient.
He rubbed its head lightly. It only let out a soft "meow," offering no resistance at all.
Just like that, he carried it back into the living room, set it down, and removed the towel.
The cat immediately began exploring, sniffing here and there, cautiously inspecting its new territory.
Hirakawa dropped onto the sofa.
"Now what?"
He had zero experience raising cats.
After thinking for a moment, he casually picked up his phone, snapped a photo of the cat, and uploaded it to LINE.
The camera sound made the cat glance back at him briefly.
Then he opened a group chat called "Literature Club."
A relic from his university days.
A group where no one actually talked about literature anymore.
Hirakawa typed:
Hirakawa: [image.jpg]
Hirakawa: Anyone here raised cats before?
Hirakawa: Picked up one with three kittens. Anything I should be careful about?
Messages came in.
Most were useless.
"Looks like a domestic shorthair."
That was the only meaningful reply.
Everything else quickly derailed.
"Will it turn into a catgirl?"
"How long until transformation?"
"My cat already evolved."
"Cat mama, you don't want your kittens bullied, do you?"
Hirakawa stared at the screen, expressionless.
Group chats were, most of the time, completely unreliable.
He closed LINE without hesitation.
Might as well just Google it.
Half an hour later—
He put his phone down.
Looked at the cat, which had returned to the box.
Their eyes met again.
After a long pause, he sighed.
"Raising you really is a hassle."
The cat blinked innocently.
For someone like him, taking care of such fragile, adorable creatures did feel like trouble at times.
So—
Rainomiya Yoru, please make up your mind soon.
With that thought, he absentmindedly rubbed the cat's head again.
His thoughts drifted.
Yoru's situation…
How should he deal with it?
Just like Tsutsui Shiori—
Another troublesome student.
A closed-off heart.
Years of suppressed delusion.
And a mother whose version of "care" was… hard to define.
He sighed again.
Just one class—
Two problem students.
What a mess.
The thought kept circling in his mind.
As a teacher, that sense of responsibility—professional ethics—refused to let him ignore it.
He stayed like that for a long time.
Hand resting on the cat's head.
Until—
"Meow—!"
The rebellion began.
The white cat finally snapped.
It raised its paw—
And struck.
"Pa!"
A dull sound.
Hirakawa jerked his hand back instinctively.
That sudden attack genuinely startled him.
Thankfully—
No claws.
He checked carefully.
No scratches.
"That scared me."
He let out a breath.
Then looked at the cat again.
Its paw had already lowered, resting casually on the edge of the box.
It stared at him.
Calm.
No aggression.
No puffed fur. No growling.
So—
It was just annoyed.
Just from being petted too long.
No wonder people called them "masters."
Hirakawa frowned slightly.
Refused to accept defeat.
He reached out again.
Tried to rub its head.
Smack.
Rejected.
Again.
And again.
Every attempt—blocked.
The cat had clearly decided.
No more.
"What a shame."
He withdrew his hand reluctantly.
That soft, addictive texture—
Gone.
Just as he stood up—
He suddenly paused.
Then slowly crouched back down.
Eyes narrowing slightly.
Curious.
Testing something.
Man and cat faced each other again.
Silence filled the living room.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
In a slightly hesitant voice, Hirakawa spoke:
"Cat mama… you don't want your kittens… to be bullied by me, do you?"
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