[Picture Book Style Novel] I Love You [Monthly Art PJ]

My morning begins with the light the old man turns on for me.

I call out, "Good morning, good morning," to my friends around me.

After a while, little children come along, holding their mothers' hands.

They look at us with sparkling round eyes, pat us, and say to their mothers,

"Mommy! This one!"

The mother says, "Oh, you can't help it, can you?" and takes my friend away.

When that happens, my friend makes their button eyes shine and proudly says goodbye with their black fur.

"Bye-bye! Bye-bye! I'm so happy!"

I want to wave back, but since I can't move, I reply, "Happy!"

"Happy" is such a wonderful word.

It's that yellowish, lovely color between a mother and her child.

I want to be happy soon, too.

What kind of child will take me home?

Maybe a girl with chubby cheeks? Or maybe a boy full of energy?

I hope it's a girl. A kind, sweet-smelling, soft girl. If she hugs me tight, I'll hug her back in my heart.

Every single day.
Children pass by.

The friends I've been with ever since I was born are disappearing one by one.

Is it my turn next?

Every time a child looks at us, my heart races, but it seems it's not my turn yet.

What will happen if I'm never chosen? It's a little scary, but it'll be okay, right?

After all, I have perky ears, sparkling button eyes, a glossy black coat, and a chubby tummy.

Well, my friends are all the same, though...

But there must be someone out there who will love me.

They would pet me every day, take me everywhere, give me big hugs, and sleep with me at night.

But even after all that, I still never get taken anywhere.

What makes me different from the others?

Could I have gotten dirty without knowing it? Did the moms make a little mistake and sew my ears on crooked?

My chest aches, but my friends tell me, "That's not true, we're all the same."

Even that friend of mine was taken away yesterday by a bright, energetic girl who said, "I'm so happy!"

Be happy in your new home!

For a moment, my heart swells with joy, but when my friend is gone, the space beside me feels a little lonely.

One day, a man came by and let out a sigh.

"This series isn't selling very well anymore. I guess it's not popular anymore?"

Am I not popular?

I haven't found happiness yet, but have they already gotten tired of me?
Is no one going to love me?

I'm anxious, I'm scared, and I feel like I might start trembling. I wish I could move, just like the man.

The man's hand reached out and grabbed me and the one other friend left together in a tight grip.

Ouch! That hurts!

Suddenly, I was tossed out. I was rolling around inside a white wagon in front of the shop.

There were so many other kinds of friends there, too. Cats like me, dogs, monkeys, and many others.

Ouch. Because you grabbed me so roughly, my whiskers got bent, and they were stinging and hurting.

The friend who was thrown out along with me started screaming.

Wow! My fur got dirty from the man's hand cream! And one of your whiskers is bent!

Oh no, that's terrible!

I wanted to reach out my little hand and straighten my whiskers, but I couldn't move, so I couldn't do that either.

What should I do? Even if my whiskers are bent, will someone still love me?

Am I going to be unloved by everyone for the rest of my life?

I panicked and whined, but no real tears came out.

The monkey being crushed beneath me squeaked.

Cat, cat. It's useless to cry. Once you're in here, that's it. You can't be anyone's special one.

Why? No matter where we are, we are cute.

It doesn't matter. At best, we're just an afterthought of a souvenir. We don't even get wrapped.

What? We don't get wrapped...

Fancy wrapping paper and a proud ribbon. The friends wrapped in those look so wonderful, but I... I don't get wrapped.

I feel so down. No, even if I don't get wrapped, and even if I'm not special, if someone loves me, that's enough.

But I wonder if there really is a child who would love me with my bent whiskers.

Where I used to be, there are Scottish Folds with precocious faces and blue eyes lined up. Compared to them, my button eyes might look a bit old-fashioned.

I'll just stay here in the corner of the shop and be forgotten.

The monkey laughed.

If being forgotten was all, that would be better. Sometimes the contents of this wagon become empty. The guys before us were put in white bags and taken somewhere.

"What happens to you after you're taken away?"

"Who knows. But I heard the man calling us trash. So, I bet we're not even in this world anymore."

"Does it hurt? Is it painful?"

"Of course it hurts and it's painful! Because you die as trash, without ever being loved or finding happiness!"

My heart sank and just wouldn't come back up. Trash—how miserable it would be to die like that.

We were born to be loved, after all. To disappear without ever making anyone happy.

We really are just trash, aren't we.

Several days passed while I remained depressed.

A few children picked me up, but as soon as they noticed my whiskers were bent, they tossed me aside. I wanted to cry again, but I held it in.

One day, a grown woman happened to walk by. She was wearing a gray suit and dragging a heavy-looking bag.

The woman looked incredibly, incredibly tired. She had large dark circles under her eyes that looked like they'd been colored in with crayon, and her back was more bent than my whiskers.

The woman carelessly shoved her hand into the wagon, tossed aside a monkey and a puppy, and grabbed me.

In the woman's hand, I was illuminated by the light and stared at intently.

My (imaginary) heart made a loud sound.

The woman narrowed her eyes and turned me around.

I had a little hope. Maybe, because she was so tired, she wouldn't notice that my whiskers were bent.

Even if it was just a whim. Even if she got bored and threw me away right after. Just once, I wanted her to take me home and hold me tight, telling me I was precious.

But the woman looked at my bent whiskers with a displeased expression, let out a huff, and tossed me back into the wagon.

I was truly disappointed.

Even after that, no one came to take me away, and I gradually sank to the very bottom of the wagon.

I was becoming less and less noticed by anyone, and far from being taken home, I wasn't even being picked up; I was cold and lonely.

But the young lady started coming by every now and then, looking at me and my friends, making a sound with her nose, and walking on by.

One day, the young lady rummaged through the wagon, looking for new friends, and whenever she spotted me, she would always narrow her eyes and gently stroke my bent whiskers.

But it had been a long time since my whiskers got bent, and because I had been squashed in the wagon, they wouldn't go back to normal anymore.

The young lady would sigh, toss me out into a more visible spot, and then leave.

I wonder if the young lady cares about me. But I'm a 'defective product,' aren't I? It's probably impossible for her to take me home, but I wish that just by looking at me, she could feel a little bit comforted.

The young lady seemed to get more tired day by day. Her back was becoming more hunched, she looked gloomy, and she was turning a dark color, the opposite of happiness.

Suddenly, the young lady stopped coming.

I wonder what happened. Did she grow to dislike us? Or is she busy with work? Could it be that she's sick?

I was worried about the young lady, so I leaned out of the wagon (in my heart) and watched the customers.

I wish I could move my legs.

If I could, I would cling to the young lady's hand and press my tummy against her. I'm fluffy, so I'm sure I could take away the young lady's fatigue.

One day, the man from the shop came over and looked down at the wagon.

"I guess it's about time to replace these, isn't it?"

The monkey laughed, 'Kiki!'

"Looks like it's finally the end for us, too."

"What does 'the end' mean?"

"It means we're going to become trash."

I had been thinking about that for a long time, so I wasn't scared anymore. But in the end, I only worried about how the tired young lady was doing, and whether she would notice I was gone and feel even a little bit sad.

I hope the young lady is doing well. I hope she isn't sick. I've never seen her smiling face, but I hope she is smiling somewhere I can't see.

That night, I prayed and prayed. We might not be here tomorrow, but if we are, I hope the toy god listens to my wish.

The next day passed just like any other.

As closing time approached, the shopkeeper came over carrying a white bag.

Ah, that must be the bag the monkey was talking about. We're going to be stuffed inside and taken somewhere.

I feel so lonely, so scared.

But it can't be helped. I'm a defective product with a crooked mustache. It's only natural that I won't be happy.

As the shopkeeper drew closer, the wagon began to stir with unease.

I'm scared, I'm scared! I don't want to go! Help me!

Excuse me.

Before I knew it, a tired-looking young woman was standing there.

The shopkeeper looked up.

Yes, customer? How can I help you?

The young woman looked even more exhausted than when I had seen her before. Her complexion was as pale as clay. She spoke to the shopkeeper with dry, chapped lips.

What are you going to do with those children?

Ah, we're swapping them out today to make room for other merchandise.

...Are you going to throw them away?

Well, yes. Some will be donated or recycled, but for the most part, yes. Oh, that's right, customer, it's your lucky day. I'll mark them down even further. Would you like to buy any?

We all began to clamor at once.

Pick me, pick me! I'm so soft and cuddly! I'm the fluffiest one here!

I watched with a prayer in my heart as the young woman touched each of my friends one by one. She seemed to particularly like the cat plushie, but I had no idea who she would choose.

Itcertainlywouldn't be me, with my crooked mustache. But I hope she finds a good friend and feels even just a little bit better.

　Because you are the only person who has ever been kind to me. Just being able to see you one last time makes me happy. But, what if you chose me? What if you kept me by your side forever?

　How wonderful that would be.

　When you picked me up, my heart tightened.

　You traced my whiskers with your gentle fingers again.

“Oh, that stuffed animal is broken. I’m sure there was another one just like it.”

　The man peeked over and said this while rummaging through the wagon, pulling out a friend who looked just like me.

　That one had been slightly stained with cream before. But it seemed the stain had become less noticeable from rubbing against the other stuffed animals.

　When the man handed that one to you, I was truly disappointed. Of course, that makes sense. You would much rather have that one with the straight whiskers than a defective, unsold item like me.

　But you compared that one to me, and kept me in your hand instead.

“I’ll take this one.”

　When you said that, I could barely breathe (in my imagination), and my chest felt tight.

　Are you really sure about me? Is it really okay for someone like me to be chosen?

“Are you really sure?”

　The man asked, looking puzzled. You looked down at me with your dark eyes and laughed with a small, cute voice, “Heh heh.”

“I just feel a sense of kinship with him.”

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing. Anyway, I’ll take this one.”

　Still held by you, I was carried to the register.

　Are you really, really going to take me with you? Is it okay for me to be the one? I can’t do anything, and my whiskers are even bent.

　All the many friends left in the wagon shouted in unison, “Happy!”

I also hurriedly reply.

"Everyone, bye-bye! Bye-bye! Happy!"

✼••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✼

When the young woman who took me with her got home, she took me out of the bag and wiped me off with a dry cloth.

The young woman's home only had a bed and a desk, and it felt a bit bleak. But surely, with me here, it won't be like that anymore!

On a pillar in the young woman's house, there was a thick white rope hanging that I didn't know what to use for. The young woman pushed it aside as if it were in her way and collapsed onto the bed. I stayed on her chest the whole time, and it was very warm.

The young woman was still wearing her suit, and she hadn't washed her face or brushed her teeth. Doesn't that bother her? Even in that state, she gently touched my fluffy tummy with her finger and began to breathe softly in her sleep.

It was as if she were sleeping for the first time in days. Well, it's my first time sleeping, too. Humans sleep every day, right?

From now on, we'll be together forever, right?

The kind young woman who chose someone like me. I will watch over her forever, soothe her with my fluffy fur, and sleep with her every day.

If we're together, it's very happy. I hope you're happy too, young woman.

✼••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✼

Some time after that, the white rope disappeared, and the purple circles under the young woman's eyes faded, too. That must be a good thing, right?

Thank you, young woman.
I can't even say thank you. And I can't even give you a hug.

We'll be together forever. I love you.

Project Overview: Monthly Art Project Planning

This month's theme: A 'picture book' featuring a 'stuffed animal' based on the theme of 'I love you'.

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