Irradiation | I Am a Black Cat feat. KYON2 | Awai Palm-sized Story Collection 6

I am a black cat. I am a girl cat named Kuro. Who is it that calls me "unoriginal"? To me, it is not a name to be particularly ashamed of. If I were called something like Schwarz, it would take me a moment to realize it was me. I feel like saying "silly, silly." Furthermore, finding the shadow of wine in the sound is not very pleasant either. Since that great cat of old also drowned in it, alcohol is a cat's nemesis. A cat's name, whether it be Mike or Tora, is nothing more than a human convenience. If my master calls "Kuro," and I respond with a "meow," that is sufficient. The world, unexpectedly, must surely revolve around such trivial things.

It is my daily routine to sleep with my belly up. My master not only envies this but also makes sarcastic remarks like, "It must be nice to be so carefree." This is truly regrettable. A nap is my destiny and my calling. A cat sleeps, hence the word 'neko' (sleeping child). A cat that does not sleep is not a cat.

However, ever since my master's wandering work began, that habit has been completely hindered. His profession is apparently a salaryman, but he stays cooped up in his study all day and hardly ever comes out. Just as I am about to fall asleep, he whispers, "Kuro, could you move for a moment?" It is truly outrageous that his favorite floor chair is taken away from me every single time.

He is typing something into a thin, board-like thing. He tries to make himself look like a diligent worker. But in reality, he is not working as seriously as he thinks. I sometimes sneak into his study to peek, but he is merely climbing mountains of delusions in his brain, repeating the ascent, and drifting in the sea of the electronic web. That should be called a game rather than work.

Lately, he has been indulging in a strange game of stylistic imitation, putting effort into escaping reality by channeling Soseki or Dazai. I suddenly remembered what my grandmother cat used to say: "A cat that escapes into appearances also escapes from its cat life." And then, occasionally—no, both morning and night—he calls me onto his lap. My grandmother cat also continued, "A cat that stays too long on a lap forgets its cat life." That said, watching my master indulge in his writing is like watching a young cat closing its eyes in a sunbeam, and I don't dislike it unexpectedly; and the moments I spend dozing on such a master's lap are, well, not a problem to have.

However, the thing my master holds called a mouse—what is with it having no tail despite being a mouse? Since I am a cat, it is in my nature to chase anything that looks like a mouse, but it is a mouse because it has a twitching tail. A mouse without a tail is not worth chasing. Thinking that it is just a paperweight in the shape of a mouse might be a bit too lazy, but on the other hand, a cat's pride does not allow it.

Suddenly bored, I let out a big yawn. I am glared at even for that, as it supposedly disturbs his remote meeting. I believe I understand the modesty of a girl cat, but I would like to be forgiven for at least a yawn. I am not as smart as Siri, but I have some pride in my figure, which is made of 'shiri' (butt), so why not show it off on that video device? If I did, the whole world would surely be 'a commoner from the old capital, head-towel-prohibited'.

My master's daily routine is almost constant; he does a little work after his escape from reality. After two or three minutes, he gets sleepy. He goes to the restroom. He brews coffee. He hums a strange melody called "Daba-da." Five minutes of delusion, two minutes of work, and the remaining three minutes are for the restroom, coffee, and humming. As a cat, I am concerned about the progress of his main business. Creating documents is nothing more than imitating past documents. So, before imitating Dazai or Morimi, he should use that passion to copy his past work materials.

It is said that human culture is a layering of imitation upon imitation. My master used to say that there is room for new creation to be born within that. If so, because I am a girl cat, I have a little bit of longing for the structure of human society, which is different from the independent, self-reliant, and harmonious-but-not-conforming cat society.

Sometimes, I think. A salaryman like this might seem like a very easy job, but if you work with intellect, you get friction; if you push with emotion, you get swept away; if you insist on your own way, it gets cramped; it might be a very difficult creature to be. Nevertheless, I am just a girl cat. Napping is more important than social standing. My eyelids are gradually becoming heavy. I cannot tell if I am in a flower field or on the tatami mat. Peace is found in a sun-drenched belly-up nap. That is, the state of 'cat-heaven-abandon-self'.

I cannot give up the belly-up nap (meow).

So, after all, 'nyandoru' (cat-idol), thus, another day passes today. Thank goodness, thank goodness.

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