Chapter 147: The Sadness of Lost Eggs
"Kouya…" Vigne's hesitant voice came through the phone, fragile against the late-night sounds of wind and distant traffic. "I know it's late, and I'm really sorry to disturb you, but could you come out for a bit? I… need your help. It's kind of important."
Kouya's eyes flicked to the bottom corner of his monitor.
9:15 p.m.
He frowned. At this hour, Vigne was normally brushing her teeth or curling up in bed with a warm cup of tea. For her to call now meant something was really wrong. He could hear faint gusts through the receiver, the rush of passing cars—she was outside somewhere, and not at home.
"Where are you right now?" His voice turned serious.
"Across the street from the Hiratsuka convenience store…" she replied, her voice so soft it nearly vanished under the ambient city noise.
"Stay there. I'll come right away."
"Mm… thank you."
Kouya slipped his phone into his pocket, threw on his jacket, and stepped into the cool evening air. The streetlamps flickered dimly, and the quiet hum of cicadas mixed with the occasional whoosh of a car racing past. The smell of rain from earlier still lingered faintly in the air.
It didn't take long for him to spot her—a small silhouette beneath a streetlight, her uniform skirt fluttering slightly in the breeze. Vigne stood hugging her schoolbag to her chest, her auburn hair catching the light like soft fire. Her expression was full of quiet worry, her golden eyes scanning the street as though looking for something precious that had gone missing.
"Vigne," he called gently.
She turned, eyes widening before her face relaxed with visible relief. "Kouya! You came."
"What happened?" He stopped beside her, scanning the surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place—no accident, no commotion. Just Vigne, standing alone under the pale glow of the lamp.
Vigne hesitated for a second before biting her lip. "Kouya… do you remember Big Meow?"
He blinked. "Big Meow? You mean those two Scottish Folds we found in the rain last month?"
She nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "Yeah. I just got a call from Mrs. Wakamiya—the old lady who took them in. She said Big Meow ran away."
Kouya raised an eyebrow. "That's the cat lady who always says 'a cat a day keeps death away,' right?"
"That's her," Vigne said with a faint nod. "She sounded really upset, so I thought maybe we could go check things out."
He sighed quietly. "Alright, but… why did it run away? Cats don't just vanish for no reason."
Vigne fidgeted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, um… the lady who adopted Big Meow told me that last week, one of her coworkers shared a story. A really sad, kind of awkward one."
Kouya frowned. "Awkward how?"
Vigne's face flushed red. "Her coworker had a poodle… and one night, she fell asleep on the couch waiting for her boyfriend to come home. But when she woke up, she realized the poodle was, um, on top of her. And then… her boyfriend walked in."
Kouya froze for a solid three seconds. "…You're kidding."
She shook her head quickly. "Apparently not! She called it the 'worst day of her life.' Her boyfriend broke up with her immediately, and she hasn't been able to look at dogs since."
Kouya let out a low whistle. "That's… rough."
Vigne nodded nervously. "So the woman who adopted Big Meow got scared that something like that could happen to her too. Since he's a male cat, she took him to get neutered. But after the surgery, she went to work, left food and water for him, and when she came home later—he was gone."
Kouya sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "So he ran away after losing his, uh, manhood. Makes sense."
Vigne's face fell with sympathy. "It's so sad, isn't it? He must feel so lost and hurt… maybe even betrayed. And if he's still weak from the operation, he might not last long out there. There are so many dangers—cars, mean people, even stray dogs. What if something happens to him?"
Kouya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, poor guy. Can't blame him though. If I woke up missing something vital down there, I'd probably run away too."
Vigne puffed her cheeks and smacked his arm lightly. "Kouya! That's not funny!"
He laughed under his breath. "Okay, okay, sorry. So, where do we start looking?"
Vigne relaxed slightly, clutching her bag tighter. "The apartment's in the next district. If we take the train, we can be there in fifteen minutes."
"Got it. Then let's go."
Her eyes widened a bit, clearly surprised by how easily he agreed. Then her expression softened into a small smile. "Thank you, Kouya. Really."
He shrugged. "Don't mention it. Besides, this might be the most dramatic cat story I've ever been involved in."
They caught the late train together, the car mostly empty except for a few commuters dozing against the windows. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks filled the silence as Vigne kept staring out at the darkened scenery, her reflection faint but full of determination.
When they arrived, the streets were quiet and still. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint scent of earth and old concrete. Streetlights flickered weakly, and the shadows between alleyways felt deeper, lonelier.
They decided to split up, each taking a side of the neighborhood. Kouya's footsteps echoed against the pavement as he scanned beneath parked cars and trash bins. Occasionally, a stray meow or rustling sound made him pause, but it was always just another alley cat.
Meanwhile, Vigne walked along the narrow sidewalks, whispering softly, calling Big Meow's name as she peered into every shadow. The quiet pressed against her ears. Every few minutes, she'd glance at her phone, checking for a message that didn't come.
Almost an hour passed.
Vigne finally stopped near a vending machine, her shoulders sagging. She brushed a few strands of hair from her face and sighed. "No sign of him anywhere…"
She took out her phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dark. Her thumb hovered over Kouya's contact before she hit call.
"Kouya? Are you heading back already?" she asked quietly when he picked up. "It's okay if you are… I know it's late, and—"
"Vigne," his voice interrupted her gently but firmly. "I found him. The Scottish Fold."