Shirokuma Literature Club | The Day I Found a Sea Cat

It was at the bus stop on the coastal road that I picked up a "sea cat."
When the mysterious, slimy creature slowly turned its head toward me and let out a "mew," I instinctively scooped it up. It was small enough to fit in my palm, and my fingertips felt the cool memory of the ocean upon touching it. It seemed to be just a baby.

It was a strange creature. It had no fur like a chick, yet it had no beak; its pink skin was patterned with seaweed-like spots that seemed to ripple, and a row of small protrusions lined its back.
The little one looked up at me with large, wet eyes, its internal organs moving quietly beneath its transparent skin.

I wrapped it in my cardigan, placed it in my bicycle basket, and pedaled frantically. When a truck crossed our path on a hill, the little creature hopped in the basket, looking just like a baby E.T. jumping in surprise. It was so funny that I apologized, saying, "Sorry."

When I searched "how to raise a sea cat" on my smartphone, it seemed that if it didn't stay wet with seawater, its skin would peel off.
I hurriedly filled the sink with water, added all the salt I could find in the house, and released the young sea cat into it. After crawling around like an otter for a while, the little one floated on the water with its round belly sticking out, hooked its hind legs onto the edge to avoid being washed down the drain, and closed its eyes to doze off.
The bubbles that occasionally rose from its tiny nose looked as if they were coming up from the deep sea.

In the middle of the night, it cried, "mew, mew." Was it calling for its mother?

Searching for "sea cat child characteristics" yielded no information.
Instead, I learned that this strange creature was a descendant of dinosaurs. No wonder it looked like a monster.

I bought raw meat and cat food at the supermarket, put them on a plate, and placed it on the floor.
Come on, little one, eat up.
When the tiny creature smelled the meat, it stretched out its slimy neck and devoured it all at once. It didn't even look at the cat food.

Once full, the little one slowly climbed onto my lap with its hind legs and curled up on my skirt to sleep. Even though it was wild, it was so light and fragile that my heart raced.
I tried to name it "Mew," but stopped. Its mother must be worried. I had to return it soon.

The next night, I went to return it to the sea. I put it in the bicycle basket and rode slowly down the hill, careful not to let the brakes squeak. The scent of the tide grew stronger, mixing with the night breeze.
The night sea was quiet. A crescent moon, like a cat's eye, rose, and the sea was calm, as if the whole world were holding its breath.

When I reached the bus stop, an exceptionally large shadow appeared from the front. It approached, swaying its massive body with a heavy, thumping gait.
I knew immediately it was the mother. The air grew heavy, and the smell of the sea intensified.

It was a genuine "sea cat."
Its form seemed to hold all the accumulated memories of creatures lost tens of thousands of years ago. It had no fur; instead, its skin, like wet stone, glistened, radiating a beauty reminiscent of the ancient sea under the moonlight.
Its mouth was closed, its ears stood straight up as if to catch the slightest sound, and its mysterious moss-green eyes shimmered as they watched me the entire time.

When the mother reached right in front of me, she bowed her head, glanced at her child wrapped in the cardigan in the basket, and looked back at me, blinking slowly. The movement was so graceful it felt as if time had stopped.

I'm glad I could meet you.

The moment I said that, my feet lifted off the ground.
I was being held in the mother's wet arms, lifted high up. It was like King Kong carefully holding a woman in an old movie—a gentle, irresistible force.

I could see far into the distance.
Fireworks were going off across the sea, and the crescent moon shone silver, illuminating the water. The surface of the sea rippled finely like bundled silk. The sea breeze felt pleasant against my cheeks.

In the scenery I looked down upon from the mother's arms, the roofs of the town seemed to shift slickly. It looked as if countless sea cats were hiding beneath them, crying "mew, mew."
Surely, these mysterious creatures still inhabit the town.

As I was swayed by her warm body, I felt as if distant memories of living alongside dinosaurs were quietly coming back to me.
That's right. For the sake of whoever might pick one up next, I must leave a note: "Sea cat: favorite food, raw meat."

The mother began to walk leisurely, as if pushing aside the ancient air where dinosaurs once lived.
From the bicycle basket left tilted in front of the bus stop, that little one with its small ears pricked up was looking up at us.

　End

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