160 From Miyagi's Perspective - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

From Miyagi's Perspective Chapter 160 On my way back home from university, I sometimes encounter a cat near my house. Of course, the cat is an actual feline and not Miyagi. I'd prefer to run into Miyagi, but meeting a cat isn't bad either. I wasn't particularly fond of cats before, but living with someone as stray-like as Miyagi has made them catch my eye. There it's not. There it is. As I walk, scanning the area, I spot a calico cat grooming itself at the side of the road. There are days when the cat isn't around, so today must be a lucky day. "Hey there, kitty!" I crouch down next to the cat. "Will you let me pet you today?" Thinking Miyagi would definitely refuse, I reach out my hand. The calico cat meows a soft "meow" and allows me to stroke its back. This cat isn't around when I head to university, so it seems like a stray, yet it lets me pet it once every few encounters. Even when it doesn't, it never lashes out or scratches. Quite different from Miyagi. The calico cat remains calm as I continue to pet it. Though I once thought of Miyagi as stray-like, that would be unfair to the stray cats—these cats are much friendlier. Well, Miyagi just doesn't show her friendliness to me. Yet despite that, she's not cold, and she has a caring side. Just recently, when I caught a cold, she took care of me. A rare display of her nurturing that helped break my fever by the next day, probably speeding up my recovery. Honestly, I kind of wished I could have stayed sick a little longer. "I wish you were just as nice to the healthy me." Some things you can tell a cat, but not a person. I speak to the amicable cat, unlike Miyagi, while slowly and repeatedly stroking its back. Today, the calico seems to be in a good mood and, as I scratch under its chin, it rolls over, revealing its white belly. "You're being generous today." I stroke the cat's fluffy belly. The calico seems to get fed somewhere, as it's nicely plump and feels good to touch. Speaking of which, Miyagi's belly felt pleasant to the touch too. Not too skinny, not too chubby, Miyagi's abdomen was just soft enough to welcome my hand. I wish she would let me touch more freely. As these improper thoughts cross my mind, the cat scurries away. "Seems even a cat can sense ulterior motives." Only when the calico has completely disappeared do I stand up and start walking. Within five minutes, I arrive home and open the front door. The lights in the shared space are off, but Miyagi’s shoes are here. I approach her door and knock; she promptly appears. "I'm home. Shall we make dinner?" When I ask, Miyagi nods. We've decided on frozen shumai as the main dish for today, and I leave my things in my room. When I return to the shared space, Miyagi is preparing ingredients for a Chinese-style bean sprout salad. I chop cucumbers and ham while Miyagi boils the bean sprouts. As the shumai heat up in the microwave, we toss the salad ingredients into a bowl and season them. Dinner comes together quickly, and we eat together. After tidying up, we brew some tea and head to my room. Miyagi sits against the bed's headboard, and I place our mugs on the table before sitting next to her. I turn on the air conditioner and raise the temperature by a degree. As July approaches and the weather warms, Miyagi often complains that my room is too cold. Since she's come to see this as her space as well, I suppose I can compromise on the temperature. I take a sip of tea. Next to me, Miyagi silently sips her tea too. She's remarkably quiet while eating or drinking, despite being as skittish as a stray cat. I reach out to Miyagi as I did with the calico but take another sip of tea instead. If I touch her, she'd likely bristle and snap at me immediately. "Miyagi." "What?" "If I asked to touch your stomach now, would you let me?" "Absolutely not." Miyagi sets her mug on the table and firmly, with all the tone of a sulk, declares her refusal. "Figures. I was just asking." I never expected she'd let me. I have no intention of forcefully doing what Miyagi dislikes or even harbor hope for it. Still, a little more friendliness like the calico would be nice. "Sendai-san, you're such a pervert. Don't say weird things out of the blue." Saying that, Miyagi shifts away from me just a tad. "You know there’s a cat around the neighborhood recently." I bring up the cat to explain why I’ve earned the title of ‘pervert,’ hoping to prevent Miyagi from fleeing like the calico. "A cat? I haven't seen one." "Really? Sometimes I see a calico on the way home. You've never noticed?" "No. What's a cat have to do with my stomach, though?" "This calico lets me rub its belly, so I thought Miyagi might let me too." "That doesn't make sense. I'm not a cat. If a cat lets you, then stick to petting the cat." Miyagi, who could be as stray-like as any cat, denies any feline association. "I know. But the cat's not always there." It's not that I want to replace Miyagi with a cat. If I'm honest, it's because it's Miyagi that I want to touch. And frankly, the spot doesn’t even need to be her stomach. "If you'd let me rub your belly, I might consider it." "Sure." I take Miyagi’s not-so-serious words straight. "What?" "I mean, as long as I can rub Miyagi’s belly too." "See, that's totally perverted. Get away from me." With a furrowed brow, Miyagi pushes my shoulder. Despite introducing the terms herself, she treats me harshly. Considering everything Miyagi has said and done to me, she's the one fit for the term ‘perverted.’ I’ve never asked her to lick my feet or tied her wrists. What does Miyagi think of me, really? I’m curious about the image of myself in her mind. But I know if I ask her opinion, the response would undeniably be “pervert,” so I opt for a safer question instead. "Hey, Miyagi. Do you think there’s any animal that resembles me?" "Why ask something like that out of nowhere?" "Just because. There's nothing else to talk about, so answer me." "A dog." Miyagi replies curtly. Her brief response doesn’t seem like she’s given it much thought. "Why a dog?" "Because you follow my orders." As expected, a straightforward answer. Given that I've frequently followed Miyagi’s commands up until now, mentioning a well-behaved animal makes sense but isn’t the most exciting answer. "What kind of dog? Like a Poodle or Corgi?" "No. Why assume it’s a cute dog?" "Wouldn't something cute be nicer?" "You're not the small, cute type—more like a big dog." "Big, as in large breed?" "Yes." "What kind of large dog, exactly?" I accept being likened to a dog, but I didn’t anticipate the large breed distinction. I’m not particularly big, so I'm curious about the type of dog Miyagi envisions. Yet, she offers no specifics. "Any particular breed in mind?" When I ask again, Miyagi reluctantly answers. "A dog with a slender face and body." I still don't understand. Is there a character representing a particularly lanky dog somewhere? "Is there really such a dog?" "Yes. I saw it on TV once." "I'm completely lost." "Can I borrow your tablet?" As instructed, I hand over the tablet, and Miyagi began searching. Before long, she said, "Here," and showed me the screen. I lean over to see the tablet Miyagi was holding. Displayed wasn't a Golden Retriever or a Siberian Husky—large breeds I'm familiar with—but a different kind of dog. As Miyagi described, the dog had a slender face and body. Its ears drooped down. Its legs were unusually long and its fur, also long, was mostly white, dotted with patches of brown. The text read "Borzoi," a breed I'd never heard of. "It looks like a noble dog. You think I'm like this?" Rather than cute, it was a beautiful and regal-looking dog. Seeing this, I could never tell Miyagi she resembled a stray cat. It made me feel like I'd been unfairly critical. "It's just about size. You're taller than me, after all." True, I am taller than Miyagi, but in dog terms, I consider myself more like a medium-sized breed. I'm definitely not as tall as a large breed and can't see how a Borzoi resembles me. "Isn't it just four or five centimeters?" "How tall are you, Sendai-san?" "163 centimeters. And you, Miyagi?" "157." "With just a six-centimeter difference, I wouldn't say I appear like a large dog." "But you seem big." Miyagi muttered softly, then deleted the Borzoi picture from the tablet. She followed with a somewhat sheepish, "It just seemed similar."