Haruki sat in the station concourse, legs stretched, eyes on the board pretending not to count: two hours, still two. The place smelled like coffee and rain and metal. He wasn’t going anywhere fast.307Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0k9do8OMnd
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She drifted in like a drowsy cloud with ears. Pink hair, hoodie, two soft nekomimi peeking out, twitch-twitch as if listening to dreams. Small purse. Neatly folded, cozy blanket. Tail swish… pause… swish. She blinked at the bench like it had called her name, then plopped down beside him with the sincere confidence of a sleepy cat finding sun. “Haaah—” a small yawn escaped. “Momoka sits here now, okay? Nya.”
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Her eyes tried to stay open. They failed so cute it felt illegal. The blanket slid from her lap—fwump. Haruki glanced around, unsure. Across from them, a woman glanced up, smiled a warm yes. Farther down, an old man offered a little nod: carry on, son. Approved by the station jury.
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Momoka leaned. Gently. Her forehead bumped his shoulder, then settled like it had done this a thousand times. A tiny purr snuck out, more vibration than sound. Her ears relaxed. Tail curled around her ankle like it said, safe. “Mmm… five more minutes… fish milk… zzz—” she mumbled, and Haruki’s heart did a quiet, helpless thing.
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He bent, slow-slow, scooped up the fallen blanket, and wrapped it around her. She burrowed instantly, nose peeking out, cheeks puffed, whole body going from gust of wind to bundled dumpling. “Thankyuu… pillow,” she whispered into not-quite-sleep, then conked out completely. Haruki stared straight ahead like a very responsible statue.
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He kept watch over small things: her purse strap from slipping, the breeze from finding her, the blanket corner from escaping. He didn’t know her. She didn’t care—she’d already decided his shoulder was trustworthy. Haruki exhaled and let the moment be simple. Time tiptoed. Momoka slept, and the world behaved.
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and then Add to home screen.