The morning air was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of rain from the night before. Reina walked her usual route to school, her steps even, her gaze fixed ahead. ANIER quietly fed her notifications through her lens, but nothing of urgency. For once, the walk was peaceful.
Until she heard it.
"...Nyaaa…"
A faint meowing drifted from a narrow alley to her right. Reina slowed her pace, exhaling softly. "Probably a stray," she muttered under her breath, almost ready to ignore it.
But curiosity tugged at her, just enough to turn her head.
In the dim corner of the alley sat a worn cardboard box. Inside, a small white cat curled up, its fur faintly ruffled but clean, its tiny body shivering ever so slightly.
Reina crouched, her cold eyes studying it with clinical precision. "…ANIER."
Her halo flickered as ANIER initiated a full-body and x-ray scan. Numbers and diagnostics scrolled across Reina's lens: no fractures, no infections, no lice or parasites. Miraculously healthy for a stray.
Reina blinked once, surprised. "…Unusual."
The kitten lifted its head, staring at her with a pair of round, black eyes. The same color, the same sharp depth—it was like staring into a miniature mirror. When she extended her hand experimentally, the kitten didn't flinch. Instead, it leaned forward, pressing its tiny head against her palm.
Reina froze. Then, slowly, she brushed her fingers along its fur.
Friendly. Affectionate. Too affectionate.
"…" She exhaled, resigning herself, and scooped the kitten gently into her arms. It gave a soft meow, then wriggled until Reina raised her halo. Surprisingly, the kitten balanced atop it, curling up comfortably as though it had always belonged there.
"…Lightweight enough. Stable," Reina murmured, adjusting her posture. She sighed again, though this time, there was a faint warmth behind it.
At school, Reina didn't head for class right away. Instead, she made her way to the Independence Research Society room.
The familiar door creaked open. Inside, Sei was already fussing over a pan at the back, while Arisa scribbled notes at her desk. Ren tapped at his laptop, and Mei was humming while mixing something volatile-smelling.
Sei looked up as Reina stepped in, a cat perched regally on her halo. "...What the hell is that?"
"A cat," Reina said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She stepped toward him. "Do you have food for it? Something safe."
Sei blinked, then blinked again. "…You picked up a stray?"
Reina ignored his question, her gaze unblinking.
Sei groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "You… unbelievable. Lucky for you, I keep some canned pet food here for the club's therapy animals." He dug through a drawer and pulled out a couple of small tins, handing them over.
Reina accepted them without so much as a "thank you," though the quiet nod she gave was answer enough. Then she turned and left, leaving the others staring in silent amazement.
"…Did we just see Reina carrying a cat on her head?" Arisa whispered.
Ren smirked faintly. "World's ending, clearly."
Back in her lab, Reina lowered the kitten carefully onto the floor. She popped open one of the cans and set it down. The smell must have been irresistible, because the cat immediately pounced on it, devouring it with tiny, desperate bites.
Reina sat back on her couch, arms folded. "...You were starving."
Even without ANIER's commentary, she could tell—the way the kitten's ribs shifted under its fur, the urgency in each bite.
When the food was gone, the kitten licked the can clean before padding over to Reina. Without hesitation, it leapt onto her lap and curled up, purring softly.
Reina stiffened, her hand hovering midair. "…I'm not… suited for this."
But when the kitten nudged her palm insistently, she relented. Her fingers brushed over its head, then down its back. The vibration of its purring filled the room, oddly soothing.
"...Shiro," she murmured suddenly.
The cat opened its eyes at the sound of its new name.
"Yes. Shiro. That will do."
The kitten purred louder, as though approving.
"ANIER."
"Yes, Reina?" the AI's voice hummed gently through her halo.
"Report."
"Scan confirms: the cat displays signs of conditioning. Trained response to vocal commands. Likely a former pet."
Reina raised her brows faintly. "Interesting."
She decided to test it. Holding her hand over Shiro, she gave a curt command. "Paw."
The cat raised one tiny paw and placed it in her palm.
"Other paw."
Shiro switched without hesitation.
Reina allowed the smallest of smiles to flicker across her lips. "…Convenient. That makes this easier."
She scooped Shiro gently from her lap and carried him to a warm pillow she set by the couch. Lowering him onto it, she gave a simple command: "Stay."
The kitten blinked, kneaded the pillow once, then settled down obediently, curling into a ball.
Reina stood, folding her arms as she observed. "…Acceptable."
The room fell quiet again, save for the steady hum of her systems and the soft rhythm of Shiro's breathing. For the first time in a while, Reina allowed herself to relax.
Not everything she built came from wires and metal. Sometimes, warmth could simply walk into your life… on four small paws.
Reina sat in her homeroom, expression empty as usual, her hand moving lazily across the paper with another set of rough sketches—hologram node layouts, halo add-ons, even the thought of building a multi-layered projection field. She wasn't listening to the teacher at all. ANIER quietly archived every diagram, cross-referencing them with existing files and tagging potential improvements. Reina whispered now and then, barely moving her lips.
"Lab-cam one. Screen overlay."
Her lens flickered, and there it was—Shiro. The little white cat curled into a fluffy ball on one of the pillows Reina had set out. At first glance, she was sleeping peacefully, but Reina noticed the faint twitching of her body, the soft shiver that didn't fit.
"The air conditioner's too cold," Reina muttered.
Obediently, ANIER switched the lab's system, adjusting temperature control from cooling to low-grade heating. On the display, Shiro stretched slightly, her ears flicking as the warmth spread. She settled back down, her breathing even, no longer shivering. Reina exhaled through her nose—relief she didn't want to admit she felt.
Class droned on. Numbers, words, nothing stuck. Lunch came, and while the rest of the students scattered toward the cafeteria, Reina simply pulled her bento box from her bag. She didn't move from her seat, didn't visit her lab. Instead, she flicked her lens overlay again. Shiro was still asleep.
"…Exhausted, huh?" Reina whispered, picking at her food with her chopsticks. "Fine. I'll let you sleep. I'll eat here."
It was the same in the next homeroom. Her notes were already filled with sketches of wave-projectors and hologram stabilization grids, so she used the downtime to watch. Shiro eventually stirred. The small cat stretched, tail curling, then padded across the floor. She sniffed at the equipment cases but never clawed, never jumped onto shelves stacked with fragile prototypes. Shiro simply explored with delicate steps, as if understanding boundaries. Reina caught herself smiling, faint but real.
"She's smart," Reina murmured. "Good."
By the time the bell rang to dismiss classes, Reina was already stacking her books and sliding them into her bag. Noon sun glared as she made her way back, her steps quickening without her realizing.
The door to her lab slid open with a soft click. Inside, her gaze instantly found Shiro. But the sight waiting for her was different—Himari crouched down on the floor, one hand gently patting the little cat, her face lit with a rare softness. Shiro leaned into her touch, purring.
"…Right," Reina said flatly, pausing. "I forgot to tell you."
Himari turned, startled for just a second before breaking into a small laugh. "So she's yours? I thought I accidentally found a stray here. She's adorable, Reina."
Reina set down her bag, brushing past and reaching for a nearby drawer. "Found her this morning. Abandoned. Took her in." She pulled out another can of cat food, opening it with a faint hiss before setting it down. Shiro immediately pranced over, nose dipping into the food.
As the cat ate, Reina explained in her usual detached tone—the alley, the scan, the signs of training, and finally the name she had given. Shiro. Himari listened quietly, her eyes occasionally shifting to the little cat devouring her meal with hunger that revealed just how close she had been to starvation.
When Reina finished, Himari smiled softly. "I see. Then I'll help. If you're busy or absent, I'll check on Shiro for you."
Reina looked at her, blinked once, then nodded. "…Fine."
The lab fell into its usual quiet hum—machines, screens, the sound of Shiro's eating. But now, with Himari's hand still resting on Shiro's back, the place felt just a little warmer than before.