My Cat Came Back as a Hot Guy (And He Remembers Everything)
Sakura Tsukishima, a 21-year-old college student, has lived with her black cat Kuro for five years. One morning, she wakes up to find a tall, ridiculously handsome guy with black hair and golden eyes sleeping in her bed. He has a crescent-shaped mole on the back of his neck — just like Kuro.
"Good morning, Sakura. It's me. Kuro."
Sakura runs. Kuro calmly opens the fridge and eats a tube of cat treats. There's no doubt. It's him.
Kuro's first declaration? "I'm here to pay back five years of gr
My Cat Came Back as a Hot Guy (And He Remembers Everything) - Farewell greetings and tears held back in silence
Morning light seeped faintly through the gap in the curtains.
Sakura bit into her toast.
A crisp sound. That was all.
Across the table, Kuro held a Churu pouch to his mouth. Slowly, methodically. His golden eyes were fixed on the window outside. Not on her.
They'd come back from Kagura Ridge yesterday. Entered the room. Kuro's hand had returned. The two of them sat across the table. And then—something collided, something broke. Words became blades that night.
Now it was quiet. Too quiet.
Normally, this is where Sakura would speak. "Kuro, Churu isn't breakfast." Kuro would answer, "Churu is justice." Sakura would sigh. That was the morning in this room.
Today, that voice wouldn't come.
Kuro's right hand held the pouch. The hand that had turned transparent on top of that hill yesterday. The hand where her fingers had cut through empty air when she tried to touch it. Now it looked normal. It was there, solid.
Sakura looked away.
The edge of the toast was slightly burnt.
*(Well, it's fine.)*
It was the kind of moment where she'd always think that. But today, "fine" wouldn't come. She ate the burnt toast as it was. The taste didn't register.
Kuro finished the Churu and set the empty pouch on the table. Then he stood. He went to the window and looked outside. The May sky was blue, and nothing was strange about it.
Neither of them said anything.
＊
Sakura left the apartment alone just after 10 a.m.
She only told Kuro, "I'm going out for a bit." Kuro kept his eyes on the window and simply replied, "I see."
When she entered the arcade on Hoshizora Street, the fruit vendor's uncle was standing at his shop as always. The sweet scent of Kousaka Confectionery drifted through. As she passed, she saw crescent-shaped mochi lined up in the window. She didn't look.
Halfway down the arcade, there was an old bookstore.
The sign read "Kujira-do." Stacked old books filled the glass display window.
Sakura reached for the sliding door.
She pulled it open with a rattle. No bell chimed. The smell of books filled her nose. Paper, and just a hint of old, moldy scent. Narrow aisles lined with bookshelves, some with spines so sun-faded the characters were illegible.
There was someone in the back.
An elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair, slightly bent forward, slowly wiping the spine of an old book with a cloth.
"Welcome."
He didn't turn around. His voice was hoarse but quiet.
Sakura paused for a moment. She'd been thinking about what to ask the whole walk here, but now that she was standing, her words froze.
"Um... you're Kaino, right? I heard you know a lot about local legends and strange stories."
The old man turned slowly. His face looked older than his 71 years, but his eyes were sharp. He looked at Sakura for a while, then returned his gaze to the shelf.
"Who told you?"
"Different people, bit by bit."
Kaino nodded. It was such a small movement it was hard to tell if he'd nodded at all, but she understood it meant to continue.
Sakura took a deep breath.
"About the legend of Kagura Ridge... do you know the story about a cat becoming human?"
Kaino's hands stopped.
Still holding the cloth, he stopped.
A long silence stretched out. Something seemed to shift faintly in the depths of the bookshelves. Probably just wind.
Kaino slowly turned back to the shelf and bent at the waist, searching the lowest shelf. His finger traced each spine one by one. Old books, more old books. After a while, he pulled out a thin, yellowed booklet.
"Here."
He placed it on the counter. Sakura approached. The cover read "Tsukimi Folktales Collection, Volume Three." The paper was crumbling, threatening to fall apart at a touch.
Kaino turned the pages. Slowly, with practiced hands. He stopped at one spread.
"When a cat is loved enough by an important human, it can take human form just once at the end. That's the old tale of Tsukimi Hill. It goes with the story about how cats on the hill speak human words on nights when the moon is full."
Sakura looked at the page. Lots of hiragana, illustrations too. A children's folktale. A cat transformed into a young man, standing beside a girl.
"But," Kaino continued.
"It's a farewell greeting."
Sakura's fingertips froze.
—A farewell greeting.
"...What do you mean?"
"When life is running out, they can become human. To say thank you. To see your face. Just for that."
Something crumbled in her mind.
Kuro became human because—his life was running out.
A farewell greeting.
The last one.
Her fingertips began to tremble finely against the page. The paper grew damp. Before she knew it, the text was blurring. Tears were falling.
Kaino looked at her hands. He said nothing more. His gaze returned to the shelves, and he slowly began moving the cloth again.
Sakura stared at the page, unable to speak.
＊
When she left Kujira-do, the sky was still blue.
It was strange. How could it be so clear? The world hadn't changed at all, yet something inside Sakura had crumbled and wouldn't return to how it was.
She couldn't go straight back to the apartment.
Her feet turned toward the Utuse River on their own. Five minutes south of the apartment, the riverbank opened up. Cherry blossoms swayed in the wind, and the water surface glimmered.
She sat on a bench. Drew her knees to her chest.
A farewell greeting.
Kuro became human to see Sakura. With a proper face, with words, to be beside her one last time.
—I think it's because time is running out.
He'd said it on the balcony that night. She'd been letting it slide the whole time. But she'd really understood. She just hadn't wanted to.
"...That's a lie."
She said it to no one in particular. The river glimmered. Why was it glimmering like that? She wanted it to stop.
Tears spilled over. She couldn't stop them. She buried her face in her knees on the bench. Five years of memories spun through her head. A kitten she'd found on the high school route. Trembling in a cardboard box. So tiny.
"Hey."
A voice.
Sakura looked up. Silver-white long hair swayed in the wind. Eyes like transparent blue. Nonomura Aoi, her senpai, stood on the riverbank path. Her Harukaze Café apron peeked from the edge of her bag—she must be coming from work.
She looked at Sakura—but didn't ask what happened.
She silently came to the bench and sat beside her.
Even looking at Sakura's tear-stained face, she said nothing. She looked at the river.
For a while, they both watched the river.
The wind blew. The cherry blossoms rustled. The light on the water wavered.
Sakura took a deep breath, then spoke.
"Kuro might... disappear."
Her voice cracked. The first time she'd said it aloud. It had been spinning in her head the whole time, but this was the first time she'd voiced it.
Aoi moved slightly. She closed her eyes once.
Then she said quietly.
"...I understand. If there's anything I can do, I'll do anything."
That was all.
She didn't ask anything. Didn't ask what that meant, or if it was really true. She just said, "I'll do anything."
Sakura rested her forehead on Aoi's shoulder. Aoi didn't move. Her shoulder was warm.
They stayed like that for a while.
＊
In the evening, she returned to the apartment.
When she opened the door, the room was dyed orange. The sunset came through the west-facing balcony, turning the floor, walls, and ceiling all the same color.
Kuro was on the futon.
Curled up asleep.
His knees drawn to his belly, his body curled as small as possible—it was completely a cat's sleeping posture. Despite having a human body, it was exactly the position that black cat had always taken. In the sunset, his black hair caught the light slightly.
Sakura couldn't move.
For five years, he'd been there every night. Curled up at the edge of the futon. No matter how late, no matter how tired she was from work or exams, that black cat was always there. A small black lump. Warm, heavy, with just a faint smell.
Now he slept in the form of a young man, in the same posture.
Sakura quickly covered her mouth.
A sound was about to escape. If she made a sound, she'd wake him. To keep Kuro asleep, she stifled her voice.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Unstoppable. She pressed her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. The floor was cold.
*(I haven't given him anything back yet.)*
Five years of care. Five years of his presence beside her. And yet.
Kuro shifted slowly in his sleep. His black hair tumbled further. His golden eyes remained closed. He slept with a peaceful expression.
Sakura sat on the floor, voice muffled, and wept.
＊
At the same time, in the kitchen on the second floor of Kousaka Confectionery on Hoshizora Street.
Ren was kneading the dough for crescent-shaped mochi.
The same recipe unchanged for 54 years. The sensation in his palms was something he'd known since childhood. He could do it with his eyes closed.
But today, his hands stopped.
Yesterday on Kagura Ridge. In the sunset, Sakura knelt and reached for Kuro's transparent hand—her fingers cut through empty air. Sakura's crying echoed off the rocks.
Ren had been beside Sakura for over 10 years.
He'd seen her fall and cry. Seen her discouraged after failing an exam. He'd watched it all.
But he'd never seen her cry like that.
That cry was—for Kuro. Not for herself.
Ren held the mochi dough in both hands and pressed down hard.
It crumpled and collapsed. Flattened against the counter. The shape from 54 years of tradition, mangled.
Only the kitchen light was white, and quiet.
Ren looked at the ruined dough. He clenched his back teeth.
He began reshaping it. Slowly, carefully. His hands never stopped moving.
＊
Night deepened.
Kuro woke. He sat up on the futon and looked around.
The room lights were on. Against the wall, Sakura sat with her knees drawn up. Her eyes were red.
Kuro understood immediately.
She'd been crying. For a long time.
He didn't ask anything. Didn't ask what happened. Sakura didn't say where she'd been.
Both stayed silent as time passed.
Sakura stood and lay down on the futon. Kuro curled up in his usual spot—the edge of the futon—the same arrangement from when he was a cat. The distance hadn't changed. But something born yesterday made that distance feel far.
Sakura stared at the ceiling.
Kaino's voice echoed in her mind. It's a farewell greeting. Kuro's voice mixed in. I think it's because time is running out.
*(I want to tell Kuro.)*
But if she told him, she'd make him anxious. He'd already been through enough fear. Yesterday, on the hill, he'd said with a trembling voice, "I was scared and wanted to be alone."
She couldn't tell him. But if she stayed silent, her mind would break.
At the edge of the futon, Kuro breathed quietly. Only that sound reached her.
Sakura kept staring at the ceiling.
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